Cygnus
by Lon-Dubh
Summary: AU. We call Cygnus the swan constellation, but few remember the story behind it... In the future, times have radically changed. Edward and Bella don't meet in a place safe as school. How can they be together when they seem to be separated by a universe?
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone! Whether you're reading this story because I mentioned it to you from a previous fanfic, or you're new to the ride, I hope you will enjoy the story. **

**This story takes place in the future, but in an era in which mankind as regressed technologically instead of advanced. It includes all your favorite characters: the Cullens, Bella, etc. Telling you more will ruin the mystery of the story later on, so I'll simply stop typing now.**

**Disclaimer For The ENTIRE Story: I own none of the characters in Twilight, or any of it's sequels. No copyright violation in intended. **

**(How tired do you honestly get with reading Disclaimers?)**

**Enjoy the story!**

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Edward's POV:

We were lying, motionless on the muck coated ground under the wharf. The sharp smell of salt water reached my nose as well as the distant drunken yells emanating from the nearby taverns. I wrinkled my nose in disgust as the pungent smell of vomit reached me, subtly turning my head away from the stench. Not that it did any good.

"Edward," Emmett hissed from further in the shadows, his voice laced with irritation. "I'm not huddling back here in the dark for no reason. Tell me what you see."

I rolled my eyes, turning to focus my gaze on the port. The polluted waters of the cove swirled tumultuously in the storm, feeble rays of moonlight reflecting across its surface. Straining, I could make out the large, dark shape of the boat coming into harbor.

Not bothering to turn back to face Emmett, I answered him. "The boat's sailing to the docks right now. It should port in a few hours." I paused, musing. "Do you know what time it is, Emmett?"

"Uhh, _nighttime_?"

"_Really_ Emmett? I honestly didn't know that's what we called it when the sky gets all dark like this."

He growled, shifting in the shadows. "It gets confusing when you can't sleep. Anyways, I didn't bring a watch, I'm not going to take one into public and risk it getting stolen so you can know the _exact time_."

"Watches may be rare, but it isn't like we couldn't get a hold of more. In any case, I'm not asking what time it is for no reason. I'm trying to figure out if the ship will have enough time to unload before the auctions tomorrow."

"Want to take a head count again?"

I glanced into the shadows with exasperation. "Emmett, it's what we do. Carlisle wants as much information as he can get to help him. So that's what I'm going to do."

"Okay, okay, don't get grouchy," the voice chuckled from the shadows. "It isn't like we haven't done this before."

"No, but we haven't done it here before. The city has a different layout, different laws, and different customs. It complicates things, and I don't want to make a mistake." I snapped, annoyed at Emmett's easy casualness.

"You'd know cautions better than me, I suppose. Personally, details like that aren't my forte."

I rolled my eyes, facing back to gaze at the water. "Somehow or another, I picked that fact up after a few decades," I said, my tone scathing.

Emmett was silent for a few moments, allowing me time to stare at the ship making its slow progress into port. "Can we leave now? The smell is starting to get to me. It's worse than wet werewolf in midsummer."

I nodded mutely, wincing slightly at Emmett's comparison. "We should get back to Carlisle; he needs to be ready for tomorrow." I got up, looking around carefully, being sure to keep in the shadows. We emerged onto the street, carefully angling our faces down. Emmett adapted a drunken swagger, and I seized his shoulder as if helping him to keep his balance.

"Ahh, time for the façade!" Emmett said dramatically, imitating dramatic renaissance theatre.

I elbowed him sharply in the ribs, glancing around to ascertain if he had drawn attention to us by shouting. A few casual passerby gave us quizzical glances. Fortunately, I could tell from their scent and thoughts that all of them were blind drunk. They probably wouldn't remember where they had been tonight, much less a fellow drunk shouting about deceit.

Shaking my head annoyed, Emmett and I staggered down the wharf. I paid no attention to the closed shops, boisterous shouts coming from the taverns, nor the crumbling structures. Most parts of the docks area were a mess; home to the more shady characters of the city.

Gradually, we made our way back home. The muddy, muck covered cobblestones adapted into cleaner ones; the buildings more respectable. I ground my teeth together when I caught site of the heavy, wooden structure that was the compound. Emmett caught my tensed posture, straightening up.

"Edward, that's why we do what we do. But you can't just go and rip it apart with your bare hands, as tempting as that thought is." Emmett chuckled darkly.

I shook my head, anger still churning in my stomach like the waters of the port. "I know, I wouldn't be that foolish. It's incredibly maddening though."

The carefree grin that seemed to be a permanent feature on Emmett's big face slipped off for once. He shook his dark, curling hair out of his eyes; his expression unusually somber. "I know Edward. Our whole family does, and we aren't completely alone on issues like this. We just happen to have a few extra… abilities, so we can do more about it. We aren't the only people who care."

I dropped my head, ignoring the bronze strands of hair that whipped around my face in the chilling breeze coming off the ocean. "I know that Emmett. Sometimes, it just seems like we are."

We walked back to the house in silence, slipping through the dark alleys soundlessly as wraiths.

Another auction. Perhaps another act of grand theft after that. It seemed that was all life has for us anymore. _And yet it looks as if we aren't making a difference._

We had just moved to this new area, posing as a low noble-class. It put us in the perfect position to do what we needed to. And after a few years, or a few missions gone badly wrong; we would leave again.

Not before we had seen the faces though. The faces of those we were committing our existence to save. The elderly, sick, young, and terrified. But worst of all were the hopeless. Those who felt the weight of the burden the cruel world had placed on them.

I looked up at the dark, clouded sky. Faded stars hung in the heavens, barely showing through the omnipresent layer of clouds. Dark buildings on either side of us seemed to reach up towards the sky, stretching to those faint points of light.

It seemed such a dark world, anymore. So desperate and dim. Even more so than the unfortunate people we helped, who had nothing left to them. No vision of the future, no care past living through this day. And no feeling that anything better could ever ensue.

They were not the only ones feeling hopeless anymore.

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**So: good, bad, confusing? Excellent. Drop a review, if you wish. If you don't, then you probably wouldn't be bothering to read this note right now.**

**_Lon-Dubh_**


	2. Chapter 1: Stories

**Hello again! I orginally had hoped that I would gradually fill in explanations and such as the story went on, but half of you are baying after my blood so I can see that isn't going to work. Here are a few explanaitions:**

**As I mentioned previously, this story takes place in a future in which mankind has technologically regressed. Meaning at one time, mankind had all of the technology we enjoy today, but it was lost in the future. Some implements remain, such as wrist watches, but generally most of our knowledge was lost. The human race has reverted back to a middle-age sort of period. Further explanaitions, details, and reasons will be given out as the story progresses.**

**Cygnus. So few of you know who/what I am referring to when I talk about that. Cygnus is a constellation, and like most constellations, is paired with its own unique story. The story of Cygnus will be relevant in the story, metaphorically and otherwise, and will come into play as early as this chapter. **

**Bella and the Cullens are the main characters in this story. There is no character I made up called Cygnus in the story. I am merely referencing the constellation and putting in forshadowing for later on in the story.**

**Some of you are just completely confused by my vague details. Everything will very soon become much clearer. I think it takes the fun of a story if everything is crystal clear from the beginning. If you have any more questions (that will not be answered later on in the story) feel free to ask me in a review.**

**Enjoy!**

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Bella's POV:

I tried unsuccessfully to swallow, my saliva catching in my swollen throat. Even the inside of my mouth tasted of salt, choking me and making me faint with dehydration. I gasped, opening my mouth as if I could catch moisture from the air. Ominous storm clouds hung overhead, hinting at rain. Fervently I prayed for it to pour. If only so I could feel the fresh sensation of the droplets on my skin, if only so I could feel the water's icy coolness sliding down my inflamed throat…

I groaned, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. It seemed it had been an eternity since a drop of fresh water had passed through my lips. And it had been even longer since I had eaten.

My hair, my clothes, even my skin was permeated with the thick smell of seawater. Grains of salt clung to my unwashed body and hair like leaches, determined to suck every drop of moisture out of my system.

I forced myself to simply lay still. Don't move, don't make a sound. For more than one reason. Moving takes energy, precious strength I have so little of. And moving attracts attention, and here, the last thing you want to do is attract attention.

My cracked lips felt as if they would split if I dared try to form a sentence. If I dared tried to move at all. But that was okay. There was no one to talk to in any case.

I tried to regulate my breathing with the crash of the surf. In, then out. In, then out. I attempted unsuccessfully to ignore the harsh salty smell that seemed to hang in the very air I breathed. Once this was over, if it was over, it was most sincere wish never to smell the ocean again.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated only on the sounds around me. Distant shouts and profanities, and closer noises of shifting and snoring. Once I had hated the stench of blood above all else. Now I hated salt. And sweat. I wrinkled my nose, knowing no one could see it. I don't think I'd smelled the whiff of a clean body for weeks. Even among the crew members.

Breathe. In, and out. In, and out. As much as I loathed the odor of the sea, the gentle sound of the waves was like a calming caress. It assured me that time was passing. That there was still the promise of life outside the sweltering hellhole. That there was still hope.

Hope.

It seemed like such a fragile term anymore. The ship was full of "cargo" in various states of mentality. Some were old, young. Some were full of the fading hope that someday life might be different. Someday, they might be lucky; something might get better. And then, there were the fatalists. Some had been sold multiple times. They had no hope. No desire to live. No thought of anything past this day. No even dying embers of optimism remained. It was just cold, harsh reality.

_There is no room for hope in this world. Not in our world at least. Save your hope for the nobles, the freemen. Let them look forward to their life, and let us just be. This is how it has been, and this is how it always will be. For you and for me at least. No, save your hope for those who can still feel it…_

The muttered, guttural words the half crippled old man had told me still seemed to echo in my head. _Save your hope for those who can still feel it. _

Had I lost hope, over these past weeks? Had I stopped believing that someday things would be better? My uncertainty spoke for itself.

Abruptly, light flooded into the dim room. Trying to let my eyes adjust, I peeked out through the cover of my tangled hair. The inside of the cells were bathed in the soft illumination of moonlight, casting shadows over the occupants of the room. Even that dim light seemed to have the brilliance of day after my long seclusion in the blackness.

The burly shape of the first mate was silhouetted against the doorway. I winced, already stirring; anticipating what he would say next.

"Up, move! Come on, come on, quickly!" He spoke with an accent I was unable to identify, as did most of the crew. I had vaguely wondered, once or twice, where he had originated from. Not that it really mattered. And it didn't, so I had stopped caring.

The rest of the imprisoned were stirring, struggling weakly to get to their feet. The dark, roughly hewn room was full of pushing bodies, all eager to do what they were bid. Rebellious souls were stamped out from the beginning, with brutal practicality. No one dared to disobey, not anymore.

I followed the crush of bodies out the doorway, onto the deck of the ship. Inhaling deeply, I wished again for just one breath of fresh air. Stars shone with startling intensity overhead, seeming both so close I could touch them and so far away I never had a hope of reaching their shimmering brilliance.

It had been a long time since I had seen the stars.

The air around me was filled with the shuffling scrape of bare feet against worn wood and soft moans. Everyone stayed in a tightly crushed mass, as if we were afraid if we straggled we would be picked off. And who knows? Perhaps we would be.

Craning my neck over the sea of people, I searched for a less cramped space. I should have long ago gotten accustomed to the claustrophobic spaces I had been so far confined in. Struggling, I clawed my way through the crush of other bodies, earning curses and not a few vicious elbows. Finally, I emerged onto the edge of the crowd, not far from the rail of the ship.

Chancing a glance, I peeked overboard into the tumultuous waters. Waves smacked rhythmically against the rotted timber of the ship, comforting me. It was like a heartbeat, in a way. Something that reminded me I was still alive, and this was still the same world I had always lived in. As much as it had changed.

I gasped in surprise as I caught sight of a dark silhouette against the horizon. Faint lights dimly shone from it, barely reaching us through the oppressive darkness.

Land.

The word ran through the crowd like a collective shudder, people uncertain whether they should be rejoicing or dreading port. I squinted, attempting to see buildings, something else besides the ship, its occupants, and the vast rolling ocean. But it was useless, too far away.

The voice of the first mate made me jerk unexpectedly, ramming into a fellow passenger. He shot me a dirty look as the man continued.

"-will stand still, stay here. Anyone attempting to escape will be killed, no exceptions. We will be docking shortly, you will be transported. Anyone attempting to escape during that process will be killed, no exceptions." His voice was loud, reaching even the furthest prisoner, but curiously monotone. As if he had uttered the same threats so many times he was no longer remotely interested in their meaning. "Everyone will be searched for smuggled items before being unloaded. Any prisoner attempting to smuggle anything off of this ship, or any prisoner who will not be searched without a struggle,"

_Will be killed, no exceptions,_ I finished sarcastically in my head, not quite daring to say the words aloud. It was infamous among fellow prisoners for one to turn another in for rebellious actions in exchange for a crust of bread. The term "cutthroat" took on a whole different meaning aboard a Trade ship.

I felt my attention slip away, allowed myself to wonder what awaited me once we disembarked. As much as I ached to stand on ground that did not rock with every shift of the waves, I felt an inexplicable sense of foreboding. I felt, somehow, something ominous awaited me onshore.

"-will be passed owners. No one will be permitted to stay with friends or family. You will go where you are sold. No exceptions."

So, it was the auctioneer's block? The thought should have made me uneasy, should have made me fear about whom I would be sold to. But, at the moment, I felt curiously numb. I just didn't care. Life had thrown a lot at me, and I had handled it so far. What else could the world possibly give me that would be worse than this? Death? No. In a way, death would be a blessing. A gentle release.

I had given that topic a lot of thought, during my solitary hours in the dark. Did I care if I died? My first answer would be no. Why should I, knowing what life had in store for me? But a deeper, buried instinct told me yes. I would mind. I cared too much to die.

And then I would recall my promise to my father. One of the last things he had uttered before passing away. He had told me always to care, not to let myself get to a point where I craved death. No matter what.

In some ways, that promise I had made was the only thing keeping me clinging tenuously to life. I wouldn't break my promise. Not now.

And then the first mate left us. Standing in the chilled, salty air, shivering beneath the moonlight. The worn boards of the ship creaked, wind fluttered through the sails. I stared up at the sky, watching the stars. My dad had told me once that men used to study the heavens. They looked into the sky and were able to see the stars, other planets, even other galaxies millions of miles away. The thought made my head spin. But what I had liked most, what I had remembered most, was his stories of the constellations. How different groups of stars were called different things by the ancient people. How they made stories to explain the shapes in the sky, how some even worshipped the sun and the moon.

I remembered one story in particular. The story of the constellation Cygnus. It was said that Cyncus, the son of Apollo, was the friend of Phaethon. When Phaethon was struck down by Zeus in the heavens and fell into the river Eridamus, Cyncus dove into the river the find him. He was tortured by such grief as he searched for his friend's body in the water, the gods transformed him into a swan, Cygnus. And he hung in the heavens as the swan, singing for the loss of his friend forever.

I had cried, when I first heard the story. Crying for such a reason seemed trivial, anymore. But something about the story always touched me. Perhaps it was the tragicness of it. Or perhaps it was the fact that the story, about loss, had survived thousands of years.

And where are you now, Gods who turned Cyncus into a Swan because of his grief? Had the Gods been so kind to everyone, there would be far more stars in the sky…

I turned my head away from the heavens, not allowing myself to dwell on fantasies. It didn't matter, the children's myth. It wouldn't help me live, help me keep going in the cold world. So I didn't need it. And so I wouldn't let myself dwell on it.

I glanced around, twisting my neck, stiff from gazing upwards. Some of the people had fallen asleep on their feet. Some stared dejectedly at the apporaching shadow that was land, imagining what fate had in store for them.

I allowed my eyes to slide shut, swaying slightly. I felt like an old rag someone had wrung out then hung in the scorching sun to dry. Leaning surreptuosly on the rail of the swaying ship, I allowed my self to be rocked into an uneasy sleep.

Tomorrow would come when it came, and there was nothing I could do about it.

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**A little less confused perhapes? Or more confused than before? Again, if you have relevant questions that aren't plot spoilers, just ask me in a review and I will be happy to answer. And feel free to tell me what you think.**

**Until then,**

**Lon-Dubh**


	3. Chapter 2: Not Just Dust

**I'm sorry about the delay in chapters. I have a lot going on at the moment, what with school, homework, and extra-curricular activities. I will try to update as soon as I possibly can.**

**A few notes answering questions people have been asking me:**

**Yes, the Cullens are vampires. In the prologue, Emmett mentions he cannot sleep.**

**No, Bella is not a vampire.**

**No, I am not answering questions that are plot-spoilers. My only hint is I don't think that the next few chapters will be turning out quite how you anticipated them to.**

**Yes, in the time era this takes place, there is a slave trade. (If you haven't already figured that out.)**

**Yes, most of the characters from Twilight will be featured at one time or another. (I'm not making any promises about Lauren and Jessica, though.)**

**And again, thank you to my beta, lizbre, who is faster and more thorough than I could have hoped.**

**Enjoy.**

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The fiery sun slowly rising over the shimmering waters of the harbor brought with it both a scorching heat as well as an almost palpable tension. We all stood on the deck, motionless and completely silent, save for the occasional cough or scuffle that was quickly silenced. Birds cawed raucously in the distance as the first rays glimmered across the water, illuminating the fearful faces of the prisoners in a bloody hue. Almost as if it were an omen.

Before the overcast sky had lost all remnants of the hovering darkness, crew members herded us quickly down the gangplank from the boat. I was pushed along by the crush of the crowd, formed into a ragged line as we crossed back alleys to a foreboding wooden structure that loomed before us.

In what seemed like less than an instant of relative freedom, I was shoved into a dark, crowded hallway. Mutterings and mummers emanated from the gloom around me, hands clawed me as people frantically searched for walls, desperate to find something to anchor on to.

I yelped in pain as an unseen arm shoved me backwards, my head colliding with the roughly hewn walls surrounding us. The sickening smell of blood faintly reached my nose as I slumped against the unseen barrier, my eyes wide against the surrounding blackness. I reached up, gingerly probing my head with trembling fingers, weak from hunger and dehydration. My hands skimmed through my dirty, tangled hair and eventually met a trickle of warm liquid running down the back of my head. Wincing as my fingertips scraped across the open wound, I made my breathing shallower. The smell of blood, dust, and sweat reached my nose in a sickening mixture.

Closing my eyes, I couldn't even tell the difference between having them open. An elbow rammed into my side, bodies pressed against my own. My breathing hitched slightly as a clouding sense of claustrophobia reached me, making it feel like the very walls were closing in around me.

After a few minutes, voices began to raise, a mixture of languages I did not know, swearing, and swearing in languages I did not know. The crush of bodies pushed me further against the coarse wooden wall, making indents upon my skin. Something pressed against my face as I waited, muffling my air supply. I jerked, scrambling towards open space. Angry mutterings were accompanied by my mad struggle, hands clawing at my skin.

Minutes passed. The profanities slowly died down until barely any sound was heard through the darkness. I raised my hand to my mouth, anxiously biting my already short fingernails. The air in the room seemed to thicken with the lack of oxygen and the pressing heat of bodies. After a while, desperate wailings radiated from the gloom, claiming that we were being murdered by suffocation.

And at the moment, I found it hard to disagree with those pessimistic ideas.

Maybe it was mere minutes since we had been standing here. And perhaps it was hours. I would never know.

Abruptly, harsh light came flooding into the room. Its sudden illumination burned me eyes, and I quickly closed them. People were shifting around me, crying out in pain and confusion.

"Hurry, forward! Move forward!" The loud, rough command made by an unseen man broke into the semi-darkness. Cracking my eyes into slits, I found the room to be suddenly illuminated. Shadows played over the brown, roughly hewn walls as the torch being held by a large man sputtered in the darkness. People huddled in groups, their eyes covered or slightly cracked, just as mine were.

"Hurry! Now!" The repeated command seemed to set the world into motion again as people scrabbled forward. My feet moved unwillingly, I felt as if I would fall down at any moment. People pushed me from behind, eager to be relocating.

"Men to the left, women to the right! Form single file lines!" People scrambled and pushed, yelling for friends or family members. A small child's wailing carried through the corridor, screaming for his mother. The plaintive sound of that plea that was never answered haunted me from that moment onwards.

"Single file lines. Now!" The man motioned with his torch impatiently, causing the firelight to dance spasmodically across the walls and dirt floor. I found myself being forced into a line, pressed into the woman in front of me, her graying hair hanging limply over her stooping shoulders. She stumbled forward, colliding with the woman in front of her.

Frantic voices and wails seemed to come from all sides, burdening me with the weight of their sorrow.

"Quiet! Silence, now!" His voice rang through the crowded room, bringing an immediate hush. Another man appeared behind him, shorter and slim in build, his face pockmarked. He leered unpleasantly over the taller man's shoulder, his quick eyes flickering across the prisoners greedily.

"Men will follow me, women my assistant." The silence clouded in the air, everyone standing motionless as a statue, not wanting to think they would be separated from their loved ones. "Now!"

I was swept along the hallway quickly, the knotted wood of my surroundings flashing by my peripheral vision. A young boy stood to the left of me, his scared face illuminated eerily by the flickering torch. Dirt was smeared over his cheeks, streaks of clean skin showing where tears had fallen. My eyes met his, a deep blue, for an instant.

They held far too much fear, agony, misery for a child so young. And yet far too much wisdom. Already he had learned his first harsh lesson of how bitterly cruel the world can be. Already he realized the uncertainty, the unfairness. Those deep eyes seemed to relay a world of their own. Filled with the cold lessons taught by an uncaring world. And those lessons would never be forgotten. All I could see were those terribly deep blue eyes.

And then I was elbowed hard in the back, being swept along again.

_Another sight I will never forget. How many of those will I have?_

We abruptly turned a corner, losing view of the other line. People cried out desperately, yelling their goodbyes that would not be heard.

"Halt." The man's voice came after a few minutes, breaking like a whip through the quiet weeping of the women and children around me. The line stilled, muffled moans still quietly playing through the air.

He disappeared through a door; women craned their necks to see where he had gone. Soon enough, his voice carried back to us. "One at a time."

The first woman in line, her mussed hair splayed across her ripped cloak cast a terrified glance behind her, as if wishing to be anywhere but here. And she probably was.

"Now!" She glanced back one more time, her forehead wrinkled in apprehension, before disappearing through the door.

Murmurings spread through the restless crowd, terrified anticipations of what was happening. Women pressed forward, straining to hear any sound, any indication of what was occurring. A collective gasp shuddered through the crowd as whimpers of pain faintly carried out of the room. A rough wooden door was all that was separating us from our fate.

All of us flinched as a sudden shriek came from the room, followed by a faint splashing sound. Frantic whispers traveled through the mass, everyone perceptively taking a step backwards.

"Next." The next person, a young woman around my age, blanched at the command. Her lips trembled, her eyes wide and fearful. In a moment she had disappeared as well.

The process was repeated several times, the tension into the dark room growing almost palpable. Everyone would hold their breaths, waiting for the scream that always came, sighing as one once the echoes of the shriek had died away.

In far too brief and yet far too long a time, I found myself at the front, staring at the faded brown of the swinging door. "Next." By now the command was firmly branded into my mind, the smooth but faintly bored tone of the voice as familiar as my own hand.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door, blinking rapidly at the sudden rush of light. The room was only in slightly better condition, the walls hung with a few faded tapestries and candles that sputtered with each draft. A stool stood to the side, leaning slightly on a broken leg. A drain was embedded into the floor across the room, to the side of it a roaring fire and bellows. The assistant stood to the side, leaning casually against a pillar, leering slightly. A sour, pinched looking woman clad in a uniform stood behind the stool, her graying black hair pulled back into a tight braid.

"Sit." Her voice was rough, as if she didn't often speak, and oddly ill-suited to her painfully thin, pinched face.

Not saying a word, I seated myself, casting a nervous glance around the room. The woman came behind me, yanking through my long air with a comb. It caught on snarls, but she mercilessly pulled, bringing involuntary tears to my eyes. Every so often the faded silver of scissors would flash in her hands as she simply cut off a particularly stubborn knot.

There was dead silence in the room, save for the occasional hiss of the fire, the woman's breath as she pulled through my hair, and my faint whimpers. After what seemed like an eternity, the woman made a noise, indicating she was done.

"Stand up." I obeyed, chancing a glance at the man. He looked at a piece of paper, making marks as if tallying. My attention returned to the woman as she came behind me, practically throwing a rough, but clean, knee length tunic at me.

"Change." I stared at her, my stomach squirming as I glanced back at the man. His leer grew more pronounced, dark eyes flashing against his sallow skin. Wincing, I pulled my worn and stained clothes off, replacing them as quickly as I could with the new ones.

The woman's hand was hot against the back of my neck as she forced me forward, halting me as I stood on the grate.

"Number 13. Female. Young." The man's voice came from behind, accompanied by furious scratches as he scribbled over the piece of parchment. "Suggested use as a…" He let the sentence hang in the hair as he finished it silently on the paper.

"Hold her." I tensed automatically at the sudden order, flinching as I felt the woman's withered hands clamping around my wrists from behind. The assistant strode to the fire, pulling out what looked like a pair of tongs. Turning around, I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized what it was.

The metal of the piece was cherry red with heat at the end, glowing as it approached me. I felt sick as he neared, I could smell the strong, cheap scent of cologne. Closing my eyes, I braced myself, breathing in short uneven gasps.

The metal pressed against the skin of my left ankle. A searing pain reached me a split second later, accompanied by the sickening smell of burning flesh. I tried not to think about the fact that the burning flesh was my own as the blazing pain enveloped my senses. A cry tore from my lips, tears pooling in my eyes and running down my cheeks.

Then the pressure stopped, though I could still clearly feel the pain. Opening my eyes, I realized he had returned the brand to the fire, awaiting its next victim. The lady's hands released me, her footsteps echoing behind my back. My vision was vaguely clouded with tears as I clenched my hands fiercely together. The man was smiling.

_Smiling._

Enjoying my pain.

I was unprepared for the sudden rush of icy water when it collided with my back and head, soaking my new tunic. I coughed, sputtering, my eyes tightly closed as water dripped from my hair to the floor in a faint splashing sound.

"She's done." His voice was dismissive, I felt myself being towed bodily from the room, and thrown through the door at the other side.

I stumbled, falling painfully onto the hard, stone floor. I opened my eyes, gingerly towing myself into a corner. The cell smelled dank, the faint slivers of sunlight shining through a window seven feet high the only illumination. Other women crowded along the walls, muttering or whimpering. The girl my age I had seen from before sat curled with her legs to her chest, her long, light brown hair obscuring her face.

I imitated her position, drawing my knees up to my chest. My ankle still burned fiercely, not alleviated by the icy shower I had just received. In a few moments I was shivering with cold, my teeth chattering together as I slowly dried.

Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to imagine home. What I would be doing right now What my father would be working on, if he were still alive. Even if I somehow found myself miraculously spirited back to my village, I knew exactly what I would find. Piles of ashes. Perhaps the smoldering skeletons of a few houses, trampled pastures, wrecked fences. And my father might even still be laying where I had last seen him, still and cold, blood slowly leaving his body along with his life…

But I wouldn't think about that. I couldn't let myself.

Breathing evenly, I pressed my damp hair against the wall, feeling the reassuring solidness along my spine. I just sat there, my eyes closed, mentally running from the phantoms that pursued me.

"Get up. It's time for the auction. Get up, now!" The door opened with a loud protesting squeak after an hour or so, the voice of the foreman echoing against the bare walls. Cracking my eyes open, I slowly raised myself to my feet, following the rest of the prisoners forlornly out the door.

Glancing backwards, I caught one last glimpse of the room. Shaded sunlight filtered in, showing dust swirling in the air, spiraling to the ground in circles.

_People are kind of like that. We're pushed into air, and then find ourselves falling. Like the dust floating to the ground. And we don't try to stop our descent._

Turning, I forced myself to straighten. I didn't know if the worst was behind me, or yet to come. But I wouldn't let myself be just another particle of dust, inconsequential and unnoticed, gradually falling to the ground, to hopelessness.

And I wouldn't stop trying to climb up again. No matter what fate flung at me.

_The only problem is, I have no idea how much fate has in store._

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**Are you still confused? If you are, but only slightly, then good. That's the point. If you have no idea what's going on, ask me.**

**Again, I'll update as soon as possible, I'm working on another story at the moment as well. **

**Until then,**

_**Lon-Dubh**_


	4. Chapter 3: In One Month

**I'm sincerely sorry how long it has taken me to update. As you will know if your are reading my other story, Fearless, I'm having some personal problems at the moment. I believe I've gotten everything sorted out though. I should be able to update every Monday and/or Tuesday, and at least once if not twice on weekends. Don't expect updates on Wednesdays or Thursdays because I'm on my school's volleyball team and those are the days we have matches. I will do my best to update as much as possible. Thank you for your patience. **

**And as always, thank you to my wonderful beta, lizbre.**

**I've made this chapter extra-long, to make up for my long silence. Enjoy!**

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Bella's POV:

Opaque, omnipresent clouds had slowly encroached upon the sky in the time I had been in the building. The heavens rolled with ominous peals of thunder which echoed through narrow alleyways and back through the streets.

The cracks in the wood were slim, allowing my just enough to see glimpse outside. The solid wooden holding cell's back faced the street's main square. A platform stood of to the side, flanked by the wooden compound. Garishly colorful pendants and banners hung from the stilted arched around the raised platform, waving down on the rows of neat stone benches gaily.

A sour taste came into my mouth as the first people entered the square, settling into the benches with clothes that breathed wealth and expressions that clearly held smug superiority. The quiet clamor of voices steadily increased as more people arrived, waving carelessly at the fellow noble-class and flanked by uniformed slaves.

Shifting my position slightly, I tried to breathe in fresh air that came from the square. The drone of voices was slightly drowned out by the splashing of a magnificent fountain, depicting a swan in flight. Rivulets of water fell smoothly down the graceful neck and wings of the cold marble, trickling back into the crystal pool at the statue's base. I suppressed the yearning I felt for the water, wanting nothing more than to be able to run through the fountain.

Opulently clad people milled about, carelessly unaware that they were being observed by one of the things they came here to see. Their voices vaguely floated back to me, indistinct murmurs and laughs.

I sighed, closing my eyes and resting my cheek against the rough wood. The course of my life would be changed within an hour. Perhaps the question of how long I would survive would be answered as well. Sweat gathered in my palms as I nervously contemplated my future. So uncertain. Like a leaf, so fragile, being tossed about carelessly in strong gusts of wind.

I licked my cracked lips, aching for the relief of moisture. Even with my sudden chilling bath a few hours ago, my body still seemed completely drained of liquid, like an old rag hung out in the blazing sun to dry.

"Attention! Attention ladies and gentlemen!" The auctioneer's voice rang out from the podium, echoing across the crowd. The voices dwindled down to a hush, faint rustlings coming from the crowd as they settled into their seats.

"Today we have the finest specimens for sale, at the lowest starting prices. You've come to the right place to get what you are looking for. Whatever you are looking for…." Feeling faintly nauseous, I let the rotund man's voice be blocked from my senses, trying to ignore the blatant fact that in less than a few hours, I might end up more miserable than I was now.

Breathing deeply, I tried not to flinch when the first of the handlers appeared in the holding cells, dragging out the person being called. I resisted the urge to hold my hands to my ears, trying to block out the clamor of voices as they bid.

_They're buying a person. A living, breathing, feeling person who isn't so different than themselves. How can they stand to know what they are doing? Do they never pause to look at their actions?_

"Sold!" The auctioneer roared, slamming a mallet against the carved podium, smiling greedily.

_Apparently not._

I tried to regulate my breathing, tried to remain calm. I had promised myself I would. What a foolish oath to make. But then, everything is always clearer after it occurs. It so much easier to know better after the fact.

The numbers that stood between me and the auctioneer's block dwindled at an alarmingly rapid rate. My breathing slowly hitched towards hyperventilation as the girl my age was dragged onto the barely visible block, standing there, terrified.

I felt tears sting my eyes as the crowd roared, gleefully unaware of the fact that they happened to be purchasing a fellow human being with thought s and feeling just like theirs.

_Is it that they truly don't think that way? Or is it that they choose not to see? _

"Sold! To the honorable Dre Cullen for thirty crescents."

A low, sympathetic chuckled averted my sharp focus from the slit in the wall. I turned to see an elderly woman, her graying hair hanging lankly down her shoulders, grinning a toothless, mirthless grin.

"Poor, girl. Better off dead, that one. Course, that might be remedied soon enough." Her voice was rough from ill-use, a barely audible whisper.

"What do you mean?" My tone was sharp with alarm.

The hag chuckled again, flashing another horrible smile. "You aint ever hear of Dre Cullen and his family, dear?"

"No," my answer was blunt.

"Well, I'd assume even you'd know what a_ Dre_ is. A powerful nobleman. But this Dre…"

Impatient, I cast an anxious glance outside. Thunder cracked ominously, the sky seemed on the very brink of pouring out its icy contents. "This Dre is known to be one of the most cruel, cold hearted bastards ever to set foot on this here forsaken earth. The mortality rate for 'is slaves after three months is something like ninety percent." The woman shook her head pityingly. "That there girl's as good as dead already."

"They kill their slaves?" I asked, alarmed.

"Who knows? They moved to the city recently, used to live somewhere up in Armardh. Got a reputation there. No one knows what happens to those slaves." She paused, shifting the ragged shawl around her drooping shoulders. "Well, everyone knows what happens to them. But not _how_. No one knows what them Cullen's get up to. But the slave traders love 'em. Made a fortune off 'em in the past few years." She continued, her voice slowly taking on a bitter edge. "But their just slaves right? No one really cares what happens. No one questions a _Dre_…"

I felt my blood chill in my veins at the thought of a family, cold bloodedly killing hundreds of people. Frantically glancing out the slit, I tried to catch site of the infamous Dre. But the girl whose name I never even learned had already been dragged off the platform, lost in the crowd of swirling bodies.

Cold sweat broke out across my forehead as I imagined my own fate. I had promised myself I would not fall and refuse to pick myself up again. But what if my fall was a bit more permanent than I had anticipated?

My eyes flickered over the crowd, and then back into the cells. The gloom inside made it difficult to see clearly, the crush of bodies giving off an odor of old sweat. But I couldn't care less about what my surroundings were at the moment.

"Number 13," The foreman's voice came from the doorway, the clinking of metal following the announcement. I froze, ice pouring through my brain and clouding my vision. "Number 13!" The voice called again, this time impatient.

"Go on hon," the lady drawled, giving me a weak push. "And good luck. You'll need it…"

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, making my way past the huddled bodies to the door, the woman's warning echoing in my ears.

_No one questions a Dre_

_Poor, girl. Better off dead, that one_

_Good luck. You'll need it…_

The foreman seized my arms, binding them tightly behind my back. I paid no attention to his rough handling, his hot hands brutally tugging my own.

"Go on… Get up..." He muttered harshly after a few seconds, pushing me roughly onto the stage. I swallowed convulsively, the sudden light of even the dark day blinding me momentarily after my stay in the gloom. I closed my eyes tightly for as moment, disoriented with exhaustion, pain, and fear.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. The crowd was before me. But all I could see was the bright colors of their expensive clothes. The flash of the precious jewels they so thoughtlessly wore. They had no faces. No distinct personalities of their own. They viewed us as less than human. When perhaps it was them that met that criteria.

They were my future. And perhaps, they were my doom.

"Female, young. In good health. Bidding begins at twenty crescents." I gritted my teeth as the dispassionate voice of the auctioneer rang out, staring intensely at the crowd without truly seeing them.

"Do I hear twenty crescents?" A pause. The world seemed slightly muted. Their voices reached me as if from a great distance. "Ah, twenty crescents from the honorable Dre Marsch. Do I hear twenty-five?"

_They weren't people. _

_But they had the power of life and death over me._

_More control over my life than I will ever have._

_Absolute power. _

_Unconditional._

It seemed as if I had mentally taken a step to the side. As if I was numbly witnessing this grueling scene with the cold dispassion of someone who wasn't involved. Their voices, their clothing, even the smell of the expensive perfumes that reached my nose was subdued. My breath was calm, even. As if I was about to go to sleep, instead of about to have a sentence passed.

"Twenty-five to the honorable Dre Cullen."

My breath caught in my throat as I struggled through the numb daze that was separating me from the world of reality. I scanned the crowd, frantically looking for who I had already learned to think of as the murderer.

He was handsome. Oh yes, very handsome. But his pale skin, golden hair, perfectly proportioned features were a frozen mask. His face held no hint of emotion, no flicker of passion. It was just… dead. Like that you would see on corpses. Beautiful, but distant.

No compassion. No mirth. Nothing at all.

His eyes were the most captivating gold. Deep, sparkling with a feral intensity. More beautiful than the most prized gemstone any of the affluent crowd could own, yet more cold, more detached than the cruelest uncaring foreman.

A terrible beauty.

_That is the face of the man that has killed hundreds. That is the face of the person who could be your killer._

My breath hitched towards hyperventilation as the auctioneer droned on in the distance. "Do I hear thirty? Thirty crescents?"

Silence.

"Twenty-five going once."

Shifting. Murmurings.

"Twenty-five going twice."

It seemed the only sound was the frantic pounding of my heart.

"Thirty crescents." I almost sagged in relief as another voice rang out rough the crowd that seemed to have pressed forward.

"Thirty crescents to Dre Marsch! Do I hear thirty-five?"

"Thirty-five." His voice was smooth, cultured. But just as devoid of compassion as his beautifully carved face.

"Thirty-five crescents! Do I hear forty?" The auctioneer's voice was excited; I could see the glint of avarice in his beady eyes.

"Forty! Forty to Dre Marsch!" He roared, his gavel poised above the stand, bouncing excitedly. "Do I hear forty-five?"

"Forty-five going once."

_Please, please. If there is such thing as a God, please. Please. _

Thoughts and pleadings raced through my head as I stared at Dre Cullen, looking for any signs he would bid again.

"Forty-five going twice."

_Please. Please, god, please._

I thought I saw Dre Cullen's perfect lips open to utter a simple phrase that would once again throw my life into jeopardy.

"Forty-five going three times…"

_No, please. Don't say anything. Don't. Please God…._

"Sold! For forty-five crescents to the honorable Dre Marsch!"

My breath escaped my cracked lips in an audible whoosh. I hadn't even realized I was holding it. I felt light headed, dizzy. Thunder rolled overhead, and I felt the first drops of moisture falling on my skin.

_Chilling. Icy. Beautiful._

Hands dragged me off the podium; I didn't even try to see whose. Faces passed me in a blur as I was pulled roughly along.

_Rain. Beautiful rain._

It was starting to come down harder now. People muttered disgruntled and women shrieked. The pounding of feet against cobblestones reached me ears as I was dragged along though the crowd.

I felt myself pushed roughly into a closed cart. Two or three huddled figures hunched in the corners, making no sound. The heavy wooden door slammed behind me with a loud crash, effectively boxing me in.

I rushed back towards the door, peering though the barred window. Rain was coming down in chilling curtains, wealthy citizens ran haphazardly through the downpour to the warm comfort of their expensive carriages.

But I could see his eyes. He stood there, slowly turning towards his entourage.

I met his eyes for e brief instant. His golden hair was plastered against his forehead, dripping through his expensive finery. Deep topaz. Chilling. Cold and implacable as the uncaring rain that poured from the weeping heavens.

Thunder pealed.

The carriage shuddered into movement, faint clopping of horse's hooves reaching me.

His eyes. Such an extraordinary, warm color. Yet so terribly cold.

And then, there seemed to be the first flicker of human emotion. I couldn't place it. Something, some subtle element in his unfeeling gaze altered slightly as he gazed at me.

What emotion, was it?

Was it something like compassion? Curiosity? Or was it something more terrible than before?

I sank to my knees as we turned a corner, feeling the damp wood beneath my legs. Curling into a ball, I rested my head against the shuddering sides of the carriage.

_I had been spared. _

Or had I?

I remembered the expression on that girl's face. Then I remembered the little boy. His terribly deep blue eyes. Where had he ended up?

Closing my eyes, I pressed my closed fists against my eyelids.

Where had any of them ended up? Would that girl be dead within the month as the old lady had claimed?

And what did I care? I had been fortunate, so far. I hadn't heard any frightened murmurings about Dre Marsch. I might have a future ahead of me.

But her. That girl whose name I didn't know. I probably never would.

I cared. I was a slave, a possession. I couldn't afford to me kind, to love. I couldn't afford to care. But I probably always would.

_In one month, I will mourn._

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**As always, what did you think? I'll start getting into the major action next chapter. Call these first four a prelude. Or a taste test.**

**As always,**

**Lon-Dubh**


	5. Chapter 4: Acquainted with the Night

**Hello, everyone. As long as my so far un-cooperating internet cooperates, I should have the next chapter out in one to two days. I apologize for the lengthy wait, but I tried to make this another relatively long chapter.**

**The poem used in this chapter is called "I Have Been One Acquainted with the Night" and is by Robert Frost. I do not own it.**

**Enjoy!**

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A mirror. Expensive, rare, the ultimate useless accessory. What did it matter what you looked like? Did it matter to your survival whether your clothes were straightened, whether your hair was done just right? But then, what was valued in the complexly volatile world of noble's politics was different than that of a slave's. A slave's concern was strictly for their welfare. Strictly anything that will help them, see them through another harrowing day. A noble didn't have to be concerned with such menial things as shelter, warmth, and where they would get their next meal. Those things were trivial in comparison to the ornate dance of intrigue that constantly circled around the court.

Trivial.

_When you can't afford to lose something, is that when you realize life is much more a struggle than you once might have though?_

I hated that mirror. But everyday, I would stand before it, cleaning it in the same methodical, mundane manner. The way that allows your mind wander to far off places as your body continues the work that you must complete. It was easier to accept my station in life, my constant struggle for survival, if that was all I focused on. If all I allowed myself to think of was where I would get my next meal, I could ignore other questions. Ones not so relevant to my survival, but even more relevant to myself. Questions that couldn't be easily answered, that couldn't be solved.

A month and a half. A long, torturous month and a half. Some days I was so sore, so heart weary I resolved not to rise from my straw pallet in the morning. But I would. Everyday I heard the loud, tolling of the harbor bells accompanying the sunrise I would wake. I would force myself to move. To work. To survive.

But there didn't seem any use in surviving if there was nothing else to live for.

The mirror. It always came back to the mirror. Hanging in the middle of an ornately decorated wall, elaborate carvings of strange numbers and curling vines etched on the frame. Spotless. A showpiece. Almost more of a reminder as to who owned the sprawling mansion to any and all visitors than anything else. And perhaps that was its other function.

But either way, I was always there, standing in from of its crystalline, sparkling surface and polishing. It had no real purpose, no use to those who couldn't afford to lose a few rolls of dice in the game we call life. It was simply a mark of status.

Moonlight filtered in from the high, arching windows above, playing across the milky marble floor in shimmering waltzes. The pristine, perfectly molded walls rose high above me, adorned with elaborate carvings. Even in the daytime, the rambling entrance hall seemed to emit certain coldness. One that not even the sun in its blazing zenith could warm. Like the darkest depths of a cold lake. Untouched.

Now, in the phantom moonlight, the room was all the more chilling. Cold. Impersonal, somehow. There was something about its elegant but aloof formality that never failed to bring shivers to my spine.

I had never seen the hall in full daylight. Slaves such as myself were not to be seen by important visitors and dignitaries. It was below them to witness such a sight. The world and strict codes of the wealthy seemed to have an endless array of rules, one for every purpose. And all so easily broken. Like spun glass. Beautiful, but useless. Shattered with as much force as a single breath of air.

One and a half months. So much time, yet no time at all.

I hated gazing upon my own haunted appearance as I polished in the waning hours of the night. I hated what I had become. My thick brown hair hung in a limp braid, plated neatly down my back. Stray tendrils escaped, resting over my forehead. I was unhealthily underweight, and my eyes seemed to practically be shrinking back into my skull. Deep shadows framed under my eyes, testaments to anxiety and my short hours of sleep.

That wasn't who I was. That wasn't who I wanted to be. And I hated it. I had longed to shatter the mirror, the perfect stretch of costly, polished glass since the moment I had first laid eyes on it. Seeing fragments of it littering the ground spread across the marble like pieces of fallen moonlight.

But it was more than my life's worth to do that. Literally.

I hadn't seen Dre and Dra Marsch much. They didn't associate with slaves, particularly the lowest of the low. Their personal valet's and servants would relay orders to the head slaves, who would relay orders to people like me.

It isn't as bad as it could be.

_I could be completely starving._ Yes, I was underfed, but I was alive. _I could be mistreated._ Working conditions and labor were harsh, but in general, the slaves weren't beaten for sport like in some households.

_I could be dead._

The thought sent shivers up my spine as I methodically wiped the already gleaming surface of the mirror with a worn rag. No longer among the living. Just like that girl I had seen.

A month had come and I had counted the days carefully. I had spared thoughts for her all throughout the time. When a month had come and gone, I had mourned, just as I had promised myself. I wondered about her fate. But most of all, I wandered what her name was.

_Margaret?_

_Juliana?_

_Elizabeth?_

Or perhaps it was an old-fashioned name.

_Jessica?_

_Brittany?_

_Samantha?_

It didn't seem right that she be nameless. It didn't seem right that her tragic story would never be heard. It wasn't right. But what was, anymore? What hadn't changed?

Tragedy. Tragedy and loss. Those have always been present. And they probably always will be. Life seemed such a dark night.

_**I have been one acquainted with the night.  
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.  
I have outwalked the furthest city light.**_

I sighed, gazing up at the carved ceiling. The perfectly done mosaics painted in muted pastels smiled down at me, as if amused by my questions. As if entertained by the answers.

Suddenly, I couldn't stand it. Couldn't handle standing in this cold room, surrounded by cool silence and the bleakness of the dark. Dropping the rag on the polished floor, I turned, not knowing what I was intending to do. Not caring. I had to be somewhere. But that somewhere wasn't here.

I ran, stumbling along the smooth surface. The soft pattering of my footsteps echoed faintly back to me, urging me onward. I tripped, catching myself on the side of a wall just in time. Glancing around at my gleaming surroundings, I caught site of a ledge balancing an ornate vase. Struggling, I climbed up it, falling twice. Balanced precariously, I edged my way toward a slanted window. Easing my way out, I released the breath I had been holding once I managed to get out onto the flat roof.

_**I have looked down the saddest city lane.  
I have passed by the watchman on his beat  
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.**_

The darkened city stretched before me, distant lanterns twinkling like earthbound stars. Narrow alleyways and lanes twisted and turned below me, threading off into the gloom. Far away, a dog howled, something clanged together. But it was more peaceful, more serene than I had ever seen it to be.

Gazing up at the heavens, I was once again reminded of the stories. _Cygnus. Forever you shall sing._ Taking deep breaths, the faint odor of salt reached my nose, but muted. The night seemed to be feared by the city's inhabitants. But for the lowest, it was a time of refuge. No one judges in the darkness. There is no one to cast hurtful words.

I edged out further, taking care not to be my usual clumsy self and trip. The cobbled alleyway bellow would cause serious damage were I to fall. Easing out, I looked down, placing my toes at the very edge of the flat roof. Darkness. Buildings rose on either side, imposing and arrogant as their owners, reaching towards the heavens as if they were trying to grasp for even more than they already had.

_What is darkness? The absence of light? Or is it something more? Something more wild, more menacing, and yet more magical than we could imagine?_

I closed my eyes, leaning my head upwards. As if I could soak in the faraway brilliance of the distantly glittering stars. It was once a custom to wish upon stars, I had been told. What fortune would come of wishing off a swan?

_If I could have something, anything, what would it be?_

Freedom, obviously was my first thought. But what is freedom? The right to call yourself not-owned? I was completely alone in the world. What would I do with freedom, should I have it?

Something more unconditional. Something that couldn't be taken away in the mere stroke of an auctioneer's quill. Something that could never be stolen.

Happiness?

Love?

Could that be taken? Happiness, yes. I had been brutally stripped of my happiness long ago. But love?

_Spirit._

Unconditional. Something that could never be taken, never be forced to submit, never be broken.

_**I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet  
When far away an interrupted cry  
Came over houses from another street,**_

A soft breeze gently settled over me, tossing my hair lightly. But along with the breeze came something else. Something far less expected.

A yell. It was the hoarse roar of fury of a man, distant, but audible. I froze like a trapped animal, straining to hear. A soft crash emanated from the darkness, barely reaching my ears. Silent and still as a marble statue, I shallowed my breathing.

Yells. More crashes.

Then smoke. The faint odor of smoldering wood reached my nose, burning my sinuses.

From far away came faint sounds of bedlam, echoing lightly through dark twisting alleys. More screams echoed through the night, some feminine. My breath froze like iced vapor in my trachea as a louder clang reached my ears.

It was closer.

_**But not to call me back or say good-bye;  
And further still at an unearthly height,  
O luminary clock against the sky**_

Slowly, painstakingly, I stood. Carefully holding onto the rough wall for an anchor, I strained to see through the gloom. Dancing shadows caused by the moon stretched across the area, illuminating some and leaving even more to question.

The sharp scent of smoke amplified, causing me to gag slightly. Something else was burning in whatever fire was raging.

Noises. Yelling. Screaming. And faintly, the crackle of flames licking at wood. I could just imagine a raging inferno, flames reaching towards the stars. Inhaling shallowly, I gradually edged myself back towards the window.

The brazen clang of bells washed over the harbor city, ringing in the shrill pattern that warned of danger. Pausing for a moment, I glanced anxiously into the shadows. Turning sideways, I looked for the window. Only a few feet away.

Carefully, I approached, fighting the instinct to run. My fingers scraped against the rough wall, giving me a reassuring, if painful, anchor.

_Three feet._

I hated to imagine what would happen if someone being woken by the bells were to see me.

_Two feet._

My hands were sweaty, my mind reeling. What caused the fire? Where was it?

_One foot…_

"Crash!"

A hard, dark shape slammed into me. Crying out in surprise and pain, I found myself airborne. My breath caught in my throat as I briefly glimpsed the shining heavens before feeling air rush around me.

The bells were tolling.

A cry escaped my lips as I felt my hair whipped away from my face by the chilling air.

I couldn't breath.

I couldn't do anything.

I felt myself plummeting to the dark street below.

Disjointed perceptions, muddled sounds.

_Bells._

_Air._

_Falling into darkness. To whatever lay below._

_**Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.  
I have been one acquainted with the night.**_

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**The poem seemed to fit, didn't it? I thought so. Again, I should have the next chapter out in one to two days. Thank you for your patience (or impatience).**

**For anyone out there who is reading this and is religious or would like to participate anyways:**

_**There is a three-year old boy in my community who was diagnosed with brain cancer and has been given four months to live. His parents can't even afford pain medication. It would be appreciated if you would pray for him. **_

**I'm not meaning to cause offence to anyone who is not religious. I believe that this is a tragic story, and it makes the cruelties of life seem so much more real when they occur in close proximity. **

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**With all well-wishes,**

_**Lon-Dubh**_


	6. Chapter 5: Rooftops

**Hello, readers. This is the next chapter, in two days like I promised. **

**Some of you asked more about the little boy. His name is Edgar, and our school is currently having a fundraiser to help the family out.**

**Thank you to anyone who was kind enough to review. I really like knowing what people think so I can improve. **

**Thank you to lizbre, my beta; for once again doing what you do best. **

**Enjoy! **

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_Edward's POV: _

_"You pushed a girl off a roof_?" My tone was scathing as I glared at Emmett's guilty face.

"Well—I didn't mean to. How should I have known she was standing there? What normal human usually stands on a roof in the middle of the night?" His tone that of feigned innocence, but his thoughts betrayed him. "It really is unfair, that mind reading thing. I didn't even get a chance to explain before you attacked me…"

I snorted, rolling my eyes. Allowing myself to fall inelegantly onto the plush couch next to Alice and Jasper, I leaned my head back, despairing.

"Is she alright?" Carlisle's voice was concerned, and his forehead was furrowed. Next to him, Esme appeared just as anxious.

"I don't know," Emmett answered, almost absent mindedly. At his family's appalled looks, he continued defensively. "I'm not a doctor. I kind of caught her before she hit the ground, but she was unconscious. I didn't know what to do, so I—"

I turned to glare at my brother. "So you what?"

"So I kind of left her there…"

I sighed in exasperation, closing my eyes. "This whole thing was a disaster, start to finish."

"Well, I did warn you. But _someone_ just couldn't wait a few more days to get all the details sorted out…"

I opened my eyes for the sole purpose of glaring at Alice. She was curled comfortably near me, her dark head resting against Jasper's chest; who, so far, had been silent.

"What exactly happened, anyways?" Carlisle's voice was weary as he studied us from across the room, shadows flickering across his face in the dancing firelight from the hearth.

"Everything was going fine when we got to the record hall." Jasper finally spoke, his tone torn between exasperated and amused.

Emmett interrupted him, eager to justify himself. "We took out the sentries, like we planned--"

"You took them out?" I asked, glaring at him balefully. Clearly, the vocabulary from earlier centuries still hadn't left him.

At Esme's arrested look, he quickly added, "I didn't kill them. They'll just have headaches in the morning."

"Migraines, is more like," I muttered darkly.

"Anyways," Emmett waved a large hand to dismiss my comment. "It was all going as planned. Break into the records hall and make a copy of the tax and purchasing records of the other nobles around here. We got into the room, and Jasper started copying them. But Edward heard a sentry's thoughts that was going to walk in on us. So I went to go take care of him."

"If you took care of him, how is it that he started screaming bloody murder and part of the building caught of fire?" Rosalie's tone was bored and cynical, but her thoughts betrayed a flicker of love and amusement at her husband. I glanced in her direction, eyebrows raised. The firelight illuminated her golden hair in a warm glow, her spotless attire perfectly contrasting. Catching my gaze, she rolled her eyes, quickly looking away.

_You can stop listening to my thoughts now, Edward._ And she proceeded to concentrate intensely on what she would be wearing the following day. Throwing her a biting glance, I turned back towards Emmett.

"He had a harder head than I thought he would," He explained defensively, turning towards Carlisle. "You were the one who told us not to hit any harder than absolutely necessary. So I didn't. Only he started yelling before I could knock him out. And then--"

Emmett continued to explain, but I interrupted. "Other guards came because of the noise. We ran. Only Emmett," here I cast a sarcastic look at my brother, "went and stepped into a fireplace."

Alice made a sound like she was choking back a laugh, though she had probably already Seen precisely what had occurred. Esme however, shot him a confused look. "You stepped into a fire?"

"On accident," Emmett replied, looking at the confused and irritated expressions of his family. "So ran to put the fire out."

"But not before some of the guards saw him. And not before he had ran past a stack of papers. And all of them caught fire. It kind of went downhill from there." Jasper explained.

"Or up in smoke," I added mockingly. Alice giggled, a small smile flashing across her thin face.

"They saw you? Do our plans need to change?" Carlisle's pale face was illuminated in a golden hue by the flickering fire.

I shrugged as he looked towards me expectantly. "No. We were lucky; none of them caught a good look. They did see a man setting a world record for fastest runner in history, but most of them didn't understand it well." I paused, rolling my eyes. "It's going to be common gossip tomorrow that ghosts are haunting the city."

"Ghosts?" Jasper chuckled bemusedly from his position, lightly resting his hand of Alice's small shoulder.

Amusement emanated from all off there thoughts. "Yes," I stated blandly. "Ghosts."

"I warned you before," Alice added. "And people are going to start getting scared of walking alone at night."

"Then why didn't you tell us exactly what was going to happen?" Rosalie snapped from the corner of the room.

A mischievous grin flashed across Alice's face. "Because the 'ghosts' will be putting on a few more appearances. And people will be afraid to walk the street at night--"

"Allowing us more freedom." I finished, already caught onto her plan, Glancing at her, she smiled brightly back.

_You have to admit it turned out for the best, didn't it Edward? You worry too much. And besides, it gave me a chance to see Emmett make a fool out of himself. _

I chuckled in response, not able to stifle my amusement at Alice's thought process.

"It really is rude to do that," Emmett complained, sulking. I glanced at his face, eyebrows raised.

"What did you expect?"

"I--" But Emmett's response was interrupted abruptly by Alice stiffening, her eyes faraway. Focusing, I concentrated on seeing her vision.

_A girl, her brown hair spread across the muck coated cobblestones, lay in a back alley. Her face was serene, and she could have been sleeping, if not for the fact she was sleeping in the middle of a dark street. _

The image sped forward, refocusing.

_The same girl knelt in a gated courtyard, weeds overgrowing in and untended garden. Her wrists were harshly strapped to a wooden frame, her face fearful. _

_A man stood behind her, glowering. "This will teach you to disobey orders, whelp." His voice was gruff, and oddly echoing. In his hand he clutched a wicked looking switch. His swarthy face broke into an unpleasant grin as he raised the whip above his head, abruptly bringing it down… _

_The girl screamed… _

Abruptly, the vision stopped. I exchanged a horrified look with Alice. Her usually shining eyes were angry.

"Emmett," I growled, turning towards him. "The girl you knocked off the roof?"

He nodded hesitantly, his expression once more guilty. "She's going to be punished."

He winced, contrite. "How?"

I glowered at him, not answering. "We can still fix it, can't we?" He asked hurriedly, casting a nervous glance at Carlisle. "Can't we?"

"Maybe. We'd have to move her, though, and quickly. Word is spreading through the city about the fire. And the ghosts." Alice's voice sounded distant again, her forehead furrowed in concentration.

"Well, let's go!" Emmett sprang up, exiting abruptly. Shaking my head, I followed him.

Carlisle stopped me on my way out, his expression troubled. "You'll be careful?"

I almost smiled at his hesitance, knowing he had good reason to be nervous. Emmett wasn't anyone's first choice to go on a discretion mission. I nodded mutely, turning to follow my brother out.

"It will work out, Edward," Esme said, softly. I knew she wasn't talking about the girl. Her motherly face was comforting, her caramel hair falling in waves down her shoulders. "It always does."

"It always does," I repeated, a touch of bitterness to my tone. "But it never seems to make much of a difference."

"Maybe not on a large scale," she agreed, gazing at me with a mother's concern for her troubled child. "But it does to the individual. And that's what matters."

I sighed, massaging my temples for a moment, hopelessness clouding my vision. "I know. Sometimes, but it's more difficult to see the smaller things."

"And that," she replied, "is why they are so special. This is a hard time, Edward. And you, knowing the thoughts of others, may have it more difficult than we realize. I know you're tired. And lonely." She paused, regarding me. "and don't go blaming Jasper. He's concerned about you. We all are."

The vague unhappiness that had seemed to be lingering at the edge of my consciousness seemed to sharpen and intensify into something tangible. This life seemed so cold, anymore. All the things I had seen. Even though I knew I was helping, it couldn't completely erase my sorrow. I saw myself reflected in the eyes of the hopeless people we saved, every time I looked into their gazes. And it felt I couldn't do anything to stop it.

But I would keep on fighting; continue trying to save those who could be. Because I knew it was the right thing to do. And it helped justify my existence to myself.

"I know you're concerned," I replied heavily, choosing my words with care. "but I am losing sight of what I once believed in. It seems so irrelevant, anymore."

"It's never irrelevant."

I sighed, understanding her words, but not accepting them. "It shouldn't be."

I gave a quick, halfhearted smile, before disappearing out the doorway where my impatient brother was pacing.

"Let's go," I told him wearily, heading for the door. "And this time, try not to knock any more people of roofs."

"I'll do my best," he muttered blandly. I shook my head, exiting the brightness of the fire lit room. The pungent smell of smoke met me as soon as I stepped into the cloaked night.

_Another "mission". Another thing that will help, but will not change how the world is. How many more will I be doing? How many more before it makes a difference? How will this city, this place, be any dissimilar from than any of the others? _

_Nothing is ever going to change. Why fight the inevitable? _

_Because you can. _

Sighing, I allowed the shadows of the night to swallow me.

-------------------------

**So the Cullens come into play at last. What are they plotting? Will they get caught? What happens to the slaves they buy? How is Bella going to get involved in this? Tell me what you think. **

**Also, for those of you who have read my other story, Scared, you will be used to this. For those who haven't: **

**I like to ask random psyche questions or things similar to that at the ends of chapters. I think it is amusing. I will tell you what the significance of your answers is in the next chapter. Review and tell me your results. Or review and don't tell me. Or don't review at all. Or review and tell me I'm the person who needs the psychoanalysis. It's a completely fun kind of thing, and don't do it if you don't want to. **

**The question: **

**_You are on a train. Inside the train is a bee. It is flying against the window trying to get out. Do you? (If you are allergic to bee stings, just forget that little insignificant detail for the time being.) _**

**Ignore the bee. **

**Kill the bee. **

**Torture the bee. **

**Open the window and save the bee. **

**-------------------------- **

**As always, review and tell me what you think of the story, and the psychoanalysis if you would like to. **

**Until then, **

**Lon-Dubh **


	7. Chapter 6: The Puzzle

**Hello everyone. I'm truly sorry about not updating, but I've been sick with the Flu. Let's just say I have a lot of homework to catch up on at the moment.**

**Enjoy.**

**---------------------------------------------------------- **

Bella's POV:

It was dark. So terribly dark and cold. The faint odor of smoldering wood and ash reached me as I slowly came to my senses. My eyes were the thinnest slits as I looked into the oppressive darkness, still groggy from my fall.

_My fall…_

That was when I became aware of the fact something was holding me. It was hard, and frozen, like animated ice. My senses and thoughts seemed jumbled, mixed together. I couldn't process anything properly. It was like seeing the world through a veil, like moving through syrup.

_I was moving…_

Something was carrying me. _Someone _was carrying me.

_My fall…_

Abruptly, everything came back to me in a rush. The shape, knocking me off the roof. My descent into the darkness. _The fire. The yelling. The smoke_.

My eyes snapped all of the way open as my brain was awakened from its freeze. Jerking, I gasped as the arms holding me tightened so I couldn't breathe. Struggling wildly, I flailed against my holder. Twisting, I tried to catch a glimpse of the person's face. All I could make out were shadowy shapes, no features. Weakly, I kicked and turned, uselessly fighting against my shrouded capturer.

Gasping violently, I tried to breathe in. Whatever was holding me was rock hard, slowly squeezing the life out of me. It was an iron cage, smashing into my ribs. If I had air left for it, I would have screamed.

Slowly, my struggles lessened. Black dots, even darker than the midnight around me, danced across my vision. Dimly, I felt my head loll back, leaning against something just as cold and hard as the arms holding me.

The hard, darkness was smothering me.

I couldn't do anything to stop it.

I opened my mouth, trying in vain to suck in air. Fresh, cool air. I couldn't die. Not now. Not like this, not knowing where I was, what had happened, and who my murderer was.

Vaguely, I wondered why I hadn't been hurt from the terrifying drop, but at the moment, trivial questions about the past didn't really matter.

"Emmett!" The voice was surprisingly near, just to my right. And smooth, smooth and cultured as new velvet. Now, a current of angry urgency ran though it. "Emmett, she can't breathe!"

Abruptly, the pressure was lifted, and I felt myself tumbling to the ground. Again.

The smooth voice was muttering again, this time somehow too fast and low for me to make out all the words. Gasping for air, I felt myself sorely disappointed when smoke came into my mouth and nose, burning and causing my eyes to water.

The surface beneath me was hard and damp as I rested my cheek against it. Abruptly I became aware of the fact I was outside, laying on muck covered cobblestones. Gasping still, I started coughing, tears running down my face. Suddenly, cool hands were pressed over my mouth, muffling the sound. A jolt ran through my body and my eyes widened, uselessly trying to penetrate the oppressing blanket of darkness.

Still able to breathe through my nose, I frantically struggled against the hand, trying to scream. The sound barely emanated, echoing softly back to me. Thrashing, I tried to struggle into a sitting position, wildly searching the darkness to no avail.

There were two voices now, one deeper than the other. The first one I had heard seemed irritated, the second unsure. Their words blended together as I struggled, not making any progress. The hand over my mouth pressed harder, another arm wrapping around my waist. Their coldness enveloping my body shocked me, sending chills down my spine.

Listening intently, I caught brief snatches of the conversation, the words flowing so smoothly and quickly I couldn't keep up.

"—do we do?"

"We could--- that's not--- option—"

"—we can—but that would---"

"All—fault--"

Slowly, I stopped struggling. Breathing through my nose, I allowed my cheek to fall limply onto the ground. Biting the inside of my mouth, I forced myself to remain calm. Nothing had happened. Yet.

_But if they wanted me dead_, I realized suddenly, _they would have just suffocated you. They didn't. _

_Whoever "they" are… _

Suddenly, I became aware the voices had stopped. Shivering from the icy cold that seemed to wholly envelope my body, and from a deeper chill that seemed to have settled inside me, I listened anxiously.

Silence.

Then a voice. So close to my ear I could feel the chill of the man's breath. The smell was simply intoxicating. Sweet. Beautiful. And it was such a mesmerizing, musical voice, I could have listened forever. Under any other circumstance I might have been drawn into the sheer silky intonation of it. But now, it was the voice of my kidnapper.

"Stay still. I'm going to let go of you. Don't try to make a noise." The voice was speaking swiftly, urgently. "We aren't trying to hurt you."

Lying still, I waited, but the speaker seemed to be waiting for some sign that I agreed. Slowly, I nodded, wondering how they could see in the encroaching blackness when I couldn't.

Hesitantly, the pressure lifted. Gradually, I sat up, wincing from the soreness that lanced through my muscles. My chest felt like a horse had kicked it, and my head pounded with the tides of a coming headache.

Cold hands gently helped me to my feet. I bit my tongue to stop from yelping when another voice behind me suddenly spoke. "Are you all right? I didn't mean to drop you."

Mutely, I nodded, not trusting my voice. The icy hands released me and were abruptly gone. Twisting, I tried to see my assailants. The movement was too sudden, and with my questionable coordination, I should have known better. Wobbling, I reflexively extended my hand to stop my fall.

The skin of my palm caught against a roughly hewn wall, scraping sharply against it. I felt the warm trickle of blood run across my hand. Remembering my promise just in time, I exhaled sharply as the pain slowly reached my senses.

Someone inhaled sharply behind me. Abruptly, the darkness seemed even more quiet, more dangerous, more terribly still than ever before. Turning wildly, I tried to catch a glimpse of the men.

A slight breeze passed me, throwing my hair into my face. Then the cold, hard hands had returned, sweeping my feet from under me.

Wind swept across my face as I struggled to gain my bearings, not at all certain as to what had happened. Abruptly, a dim light entered my vision.

The man released me, and I tumbled out of his grasp, almost falling again. Turning, this time I was finally able to see the face of my holder.

It was a man, dark, curly hair framing his deathly pale face. His features were strong, and shadows threw the rest of his body into a sharp outline against dim, silvery light. Jerking my head upwards, I realized it was the moon. A slim crescent, emitting just enough to illuminate the alleyway where we stood.

"What—what happened?" I tried to appear calm, collected, brave. But my voice came out weakly and with the hint of a tremor.

His broad face abruptly broke into a grin, brilliantly white teeth flashing in the moonlight. As quickly as the mischievous expression had come, it was gone; replaced by one of causality. "I found you—uhh—lying on the ground. I was going to move you so--" His bass voice dwindled off, and an expression of slightly panicked guilt passed over his pale face.

"Why?" My tone was blank, my eyes wide with surprise.

"Well, wouldn't you get whipped, being out at night?" His eyes flashed to my ankle. "Being a slave I mean."

I flushed, shifting so the brand was hidden into shadow. Cheeks flaming, I fervently hoped he couldn't tell in the darkness. Glancing around in the dark alleyway, new thoughts suddenly occurred to me. "Wait. Where are we? How'd we get here so fast? Who are you? And—" I paused, glancing into the darkness. "Where's the other person?"

He look vaguely startled by my questions, shifting in the darkness. It suddenly occurred to me that I should be afraid of him. Me: a slave, a woman, alone in the middle of the night. Him: a man (a rather large one if I was any judge), a person who had been carrying me around the streets in the middle of the night, and most certainly _not_ a slave.

Besides the obvious facts, there was just something about him. Something in his presence, that should have made me fear him. But in some odd way, I couldn't.

"My brother had to…leave. We're near Dre Marsch's mansion."

"And--" I prompted, eying him dubiously. He gave me a blankly innocent look, which abruptly sparked my temper. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

I snorted, in the most un-ladylike fashion. But I was a slave, who really cared? "What's going on? And no 'what do you means'. I don't even know your name!"

His face was clearly thunderstruck, even in the dim moonlight. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting my onslaught of questions.

"My name's Emmett. My brother's name is… Anthony. Anthony Masen." He halted, furtively glancing into the darkness behind him. Shifting his gaze back to my own, he almost cringed at my icy glare. "Are you done with the Spanish Inquisition yet?"

"The what?" I asked, completely distracted.

"Nothing."

I realized that this was ridiculous. I was standing in the alleyways of a notoriously unsafe city, in the middle of the night, arguing with a stranger, while I could be discovered and whipped for being outside. A sudden feeling of recklessness welled up inside of me, causing me to continue, heedless of the risk.

I had just opened my mouth to reply when bells rang out across the city. Their brazen tone carried through the smoky air, abruptly reminding me of the fire. Twisting around, I eyed the opening in the alleyway.

Emmett stiffened, his head cocked to the side. Suddenly, his strong, icy hands grabbed me by the wrists, pulling my roughly deeper into the shadows. Then I heard it. The slap of mailed feet against cobblestone. Guards.

My breath caught in my throat. I could see them now, their crimson cloaks waving behind them as they marched briskly though the darkness, blazing torches held aloft. There seemed to be hundreds of them as they passed, cloaks trailing in the darkness. If even one looked to the side, if even one had too good of vision…

I shuddered. This time, it wasn't from the chill of Emmett's hands gripping my wrists.

I held my breath in horrified anticipation. I didn't know much about him, but I was pretty sure Emmett wasn't the person who wanted to attract attention from the Guard.

_If even one thought to look…_

And then they were gone.

My breath came out in a relieved whoosh that seemed to echo far too loudly in the dank alleyway. I turned to see Emmett's abnormally pale face appear to be even whiter, completely bleached in the silvery moonlight.

"Please don't say anything." Emmett's voice was a low hiss.

"What?"

"Nothing," he repeated, his low voice ringing. "Not that you saw me. Not that I was here. Not my name. To no one. _Nothing_."

I stared at him blankly. His shifty appearance and unwilling answers had already hinted he didn't want a run-in with the Guard. The fact that he didn't want me even to mention his _existence_ to someone hinted at something far darker.

"Why?"

"Now isn't a good time for questions."

"No!" I snarled, raising myself to my full height. Which was pitiful next to his. "No more evasions. I only know your name, and you're already asking me to lie for you. Don't treat me like an imbecile. Like a _slave_," I spat out the hated word, glaring intensely into Emmett's broad face. I barely knew him. Actually, I didn't know him, not really. And yet somehow I felt drawn to him. By some unknown force, and in some way I could not describe. Like a brother.

He stared back into my eyes with a depth I hadn't yet seen in him. There was something about those eyes, scrutinizing from the darkness, that vaguely reminded me of something. But I couldn't think of what.

"It isn't safe to tell you. My father had mentioned you, but he couldn't--" he paused, abruptly realizing that he was about to give away something. "—not without drawing attention… It's complicated. You shouldn't be involved."

"I already am."

Emmett opened his mouth to respond, but a rueful smile played around his features. He let out a soft, deep chuckle. "I sound like my brother." He ran a hand through his curling hair, a look of concentration across his features. But he stopped, midmotion. "I'm even _acting_ like my brother." Emmett dropped his hand, glancing back at me.

"It's dangerous. And I'm not the only person involved. I may not seem like the brightest star in the sky," he flashed a smile, "but I pick up on things. You'd be useful. But I can't go doing something like this without the rest of my… _group's_ input. They'd be after my blood." He added, a smile at some private joke flashing across his broad face. But his words didn't make sense to me. Like a puzzle, missing just too many pieces to make out the picture.

"I want to know what's happening," I persisted, setting my mouth in a stubborn, angry line.

He looked at me, a mixture of emotions crossing his flawless face. Finally he exhaled, shadows playing across his features. "I can't." I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off. "I don't even know your name."

"Isabella." I whispered. I hadn't said it in so long, it seemed that title belonged to another person. The part of me that had been killed along with my father. It had been so long since someone cared what my name was.

"Isabella," he repeated slowly, eyeing me speculatively. "Bella."

Tears stung my eyes. A more ripping pain than the smoke had caused. "No," I whispered, my voice quivering. "Isabella."

He looked awkward for a moment, then a slight hint of understanding crossed his features. "Isabella. I can't. I can't tell you without getting you involved. I can't get you involved without asking…" He glanced at my murderous face. "It's not that I don't want to. Not that I don't think you couldn't handle it. But.." he paused, shoulders slumping. "I can't."

I opened my mouth to object, but no words came out.

He was gone.

Glancing around wildly, I searched the darkness. Nothing. Nothing but arching, silvery moonlight, gleaming across dampened cobblestones.

A puzzle. A puzzle with so many hints. Emmett's father. His father had mentioned me. But who was he? Who was his group? What was he involved in that was so dangerous he couldn't risk attracting the attention of the Guard. And who did he have to ask?

What happened to his brother? One moment he was here, and the next he was gone.

A puzzle. A perplexing puzzle. One that I had just enough pieces of to catch a vague glimpse of the ending picture. But not enough to truly know what that picture would be.

Something caught my eye. It was the glint of gold.

Stooping down, my fingers touched a shining ring. Frowning, I picked it up. The gold gleamed in the silvery light, contrasting sharply with the darkness behind it.

On it was embossed an extravagant letter. Squinting, I leaned closer.

_C._

The memory of that day I had been sold flashed back into my mind. The emblem on Dre Cullen's carriage had been like this.

How was Emmett involved with Dre Cullen?

Shivers ran down my spine.

_Those eyes._

Suddenly I could picture them from the darkness. Emmett's eyes. And I knew where I had seen them before.

A mesmerizing gold. Shining through the darkness. Deep. Beautiful.

His contained none of the icy depth the Dre's did. But they were so much the same…

Heart beating wildly, I stared into the darkness. And I could almost see those golden burnt eyes gazing back.

-----------------------------

**So the plot thickens…. (Enter creepy music.) Tell me what you think. **

**Also, the bee question. (_Keep in mind that I am not a psychoanalyst, so these questions aren't of my creation. I just get them from books._) I don't think the results will be very accurate, because most of you let personal prejudices about being frightened by bees influence your decisions… Maybe the question should have been about a fly. **

You ignored the Bee. You are unable to make crucial decisions. When a decision is required you dither. By the time you make up your mind, it's too late. You have no strong opinions, on Bees or otherwise, you err on the side of caution, it is better not to get involved than to make a rash judgment which might get you stung. You are a middle of the road-er. Helpful Moral: Life is full of important decisions; you can't avoid them for ever.

You killed the Bee. You are not as heartless as you may seem. You don't believe in prolonging misery, you live for the here and now and anytime that life gets stale you move on. This may mean that you are afraid of routine. Although some of your decisions can appear to be callous, you are trying to help. Helpful Moral: Other people may not wish to fit into your life ethic. Don't try and direct their lives.

You tortured the Bee. You believe in your own physical and mental strength and openly demonstrate it for your own benefit. You take great pride in passing judgment on weaker beings and believe that only be emulating you can they equal you. You take orders from nobody and enjoy your feeling of superiority. Helpful Moral: Bees sting. Have more respect for the lesser beings of this world.

You saved the Bee. You are compassionate to strangers as well as friends, you know that the pleasure in life is helping each other, indeed you probably would not survive without your network of friends, and you rely on them emotionally as they do on you. You are a happy and optimistic person who can always see the bright side of life. You are heavily involved in your community and enjoy doing new things although you probably have a stable routine. Helpful Moral: Try and become more emotionally independent and stable, friends aren't always there to pick you up.

**Well, I don't know how accurate this question was. I'll try to find a better one next time. **

**This time, I don't have a psyche question. Instead, I'm asking a semi-regular question. If you haven't looked at my profile recently, it now consists of quotes that I like or find interesting, and at the moment, I feel like I need to add more. If you would like to, in a review, tell me a quote that you like and who said it. Why am I asking you? Because I think it's interesting and says a lot about a person by who they quote and what those quotes say. **

**As always, tell me what you think, and how I could improve. The next update should come sooner so long as I don't catch pneumonia or something this time. **

**Until then, **

****

**_Lon-Dubh. _**


	8. Chapter 7: The Game Player

**One word: Relapse. I got ill again, and because my immune system was already down because of being sick before, it's been a lot more difficult to recover. I'm never going to say pneumonia, or pray I don't catch a relapse again lightly. I think I went and jinxed myself. **

**There are some explanations I need to give out before the chapter begins. **

**1. Some of you had questions about the last chapter. Emmett was able to control himself around Bella because this is the future. He has had more years to learn restraint than in the actual book of Twilight. However, Edward is still drawn to Bella's blood, and though having good control, couldn't control himself well enough because Bella's blood was actually flowing. **

**Emmett did drop the ring. Keep in mind, I never said that he was wearing it on his finger, so he wouldn't have necessarily noticed losing it. Also, notice I never stated that he "lost" it on accident. **

**Emmett did lie about Edward's name. There is a reason, and of course I'm not telling you. That's one of the enjoyable parts about being the writer and not the reader. **

**2. In the coming chapter/chapters, variations of the names of existing places will be mentioned. For example: Germany. In the chapter, I use the word "Gormany", because the name has altered over time. **

**Please enjoy, and hope (not phrasing this lightly) I don't fall ill again. **

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Bella's POV:

The wooden rafters above me cast long shadows over the ceiling in the early sunrise. The dusky sky had the soft, opaque feel of just before the blazing sun truly shown, retaining the last stars shining feebly.

The bell would sound soon. Just as any other day, and if it had been any other day, I wouldn't have been so troubled. There wouldn't still be the lingering scent of smoke in the air, though the shouts and bells were a distant memory, it seemed now. Closing my eyes, I could still see the Guard marching briskly through the semi-dark street. Still hear the thudding rhythm of their feet hitting cobblestones.

Most clearly though, I could see those eyes. The heavy golden ring was a slight weight in my deep pocket, brushing against the side of my thigh. A constant reminder of the mystery of Emmett and the Cullens. His activities, their reputation. And even more foreboding, perhaps, was the constant reminder of danger. Lingering sinisterly out of reach, a shadowed shroud waiting to fall upon me shoulders. Perhaps it had already fallen. Perhaps I bore that black garment already.

I couldn't quite pull back into memory how I had managed to get back into the slave barracks the night before. All I remembered were those golden eyes. Stalking me through the shaded streets and corners of the house. Following me even into my dreams. Every time I tried to piece together what I knew, I still ended up with a gaping hole in the middle of the answer.

Contemplating the ceiling intensely, I was hardly aware of the brazen noted of the bell ringing across the city. Fellow slaves stirred around me, moaning and grumbling. Offhandedly, I pulled myself off my hard sleeping pallet and into the washroom. Pushing through the bodies of other women, I reached a bucket standing in the corner of the room. Clear icy water stood in it, reflecting rainbow prisms as the sunrays reached its glimmering surface.

I contemplated my features. Unwashed, brown hair fell over my shoulders in untidy waves, framing a thin face. Lips too big for a pointed chin were pressed into a perplexed line. Cheeks were sunken in from lack of nutrition; dark circles framed the translucent white skin beneath shadowed eyes. But something was different than it had been. Even in the wavering surface of the water, the eyes were reflected. Holding a fevered intensity I hadn't seen for so long. The light of hope, of purpose.

_For all the trouble it caused, for all the answers I didn't get, I should probably thank Emmett. Because of him, I have a purpose. _

_He had a purpose too. And I'm going to find out what it was. Is_, I corrected myself_. He's out there somewhere, right now. _

_I'll meet him again,_ I decided with a strange certainty I didn't know how to justify.

"Splash!" The water I had been so intensely contemplating was flung into my face. Sputtering, water clinging to my cheeks and eyelashes like diamond jewelry, I looked up. Behind me stood a scowling woman, her graying hair tied severely into a braid. Hands resting on her hips, she regarded me sourly.

"Stop taking the water bucket to yourself, _Arschloch_. And there's the role call soon. I'm not getting in trouble for you." Her odd speech was almost guttural, using terms I was unfamiliar with. The first night I had been here, I had asked a fellow slave politely what Arschloch meant. The elderly woman had roared with laughter, shaking her head.

"Got on the bad side of dear Ebba did you?" Chortling, the woman glanced behind her stooped shoulder furtively. "Ebba's from the Northeast. A land called Gormany. It speaks a different tongue than we, and she fancies insulting people in her own language. Dear, she just called you an asshole." Still shaking with laughter, the lady eyed me speculatively for a moment before moving away. Annoyed and angry, I remained simmering with anger for the rest of that evening. That was when I learned Ebba called almost everyone an Arschloch.

Now, looking up at her impressive glare, I moved quickly to the side. I was shorter than she, and though older than I, Ebba wasn't a weakling. Grumbling more curse words in her strange language under her breath, the scowling woman moved away, not bothering to glance back. Annoyed, but not surprised, I moved into the yard in front of the slave compound.

High wooden fences surrounded the area, blocking it off nicely from the rest of the Marsch mansion. The yard was edged with what once might have been flower beds, but now remained patches of thorny weeds. Women from my barrack and men from the other wooden structure had already assembled in neat lines, like that of the Guard. Thinking of them sent shivers down my spine, even in the cool morning air with the sun sending streaks of orange and crimson across the horizon.

Distantly, I could hear the cry of seagulls and the smell of salt was not completely obscured by that of smoke. The west held an ominous gathering of clouds, hinting at rain to come. Slipping into my position, I waited.

No one spoke, no one ever did. Roles would be called. Announcements would be made, and punishments carried out. Then we would begin our day's laborious work. Only to return twelve hours later, be counted, and then locked into the barrack.

The burly foreman strode into the dirt yard, his face contorted into a sneer. The older man trailing him was sober and grim, though not having the same sadistic streak his younger counterpart contained.

Roll was called, as normal. By numbers though, not by names. Never by name. Here we had no identity.

Emmett's words came back to me faintly, his bass voice echoing through my ears. "Isabella. Bella."

My father had called me that. Bella. Smiling as he did so. The thought of him brought tears to my eyes. I could hardly conjure the tone of his voice. The appearance of his wrinkled face as he smiled. All I could see was the blood. Running down his side as he laid there, eyes staring sightlessly at nothing. I had seen my own face reflecting in his once smiling eyes, gaunt and tearstained. None of the life had remained, not even a flickering glimmer. All there was had been sightless incomprehension, a sadness that ran deep. And blood. Spreading out like a deadly flower, across the ground. Already beginning to cool. To dry. There had been nothing left of what had been….

"113!" The younger foreman cried, passing by me. Straightening, I glanced ahead as he passed, dismissively passing an eye over my dirtied appearance.

I forced myself to remain intent for the rest of the call. Not to let my mind wander, to conjure up scarred and weeping images of the past I strode to forget. Finally he stood in front of the ragged assembly, his voice easily carrying to every ear.

"There was an act of vandalism last night at the records house. A fire. The Guard has imposed a strict curfew for all slaves. Be out no later than sunset. Any transgressor will be punished. Severely." His beady eyes gleamed as he surveyed the crowd. "Any slave of these household found to be breaking that curfew will bring shame to the family. I'm sure I speak for all when I say none will break the rule." A collective shudder ran through the crowd, though no one dared to move to glance at each other. "Any person holding information about anything: the fire, suspicious activity, suspicious individuals, will bring forward all information. Anyone found to be holding information back will also be punished."

I stared directly ahead, forcing myself not the shudder. Not to blink. Not to act spurious. My hands clenched as my side, and I was extraordinarily aware of the weight of the heavy golden ring resting in my pocket.

"This is not just a matter for this household. This is a citywide ordinance. You know the rules. And the punishment." He didn't say anything else. Turning away, the people around my reluctantly stirred to their duties. I remained frozen for a split second, staring into the brightening azure sky. Abruptly, I forced myself to move. Jumping at shadows all throughout the day.

----------------------------

It was a long day, stalked by shadows and scowling foreman, Guards with bloody swords. My mind reeled as it endlessly turned to Emmett.

_Should I tell? _

I already knew the answer to that question. Of course I wouldn't. I wouldn't turn in any information. Because as little as I knew, even with his connection to Dre Cullen, I believe Emmett was doing something right. Something against the system.

Smiling grimly as I polished the woodwork in Dre Marsch's study, I vowed to protect his secret. Whatever that secret was.

A thump sounded from outside the closed door. Freezing, I glanced at the polished brown wooden door. Low voices emanated from behind the barrier, urgent and monotone.

Breath hitching into hyperventilation, I stared wildly at my surroundings. Polished oak gleamed around the room, stacks of paper stood piled neatly on the desk. Candles sputtered in their brackets around the room. Hands shaking, I slipped into a narrow closet, pressing myself into the shadows.

The door creaked open shortly after that. The voices were both men's, urgent and angry.

"—don't know how they got through. You're playing a dangerous game, Dre Marsch. If someone had targeted the records house for a reason. If they found anything out---"

A smooth voice interrupted, and I recognized it as that of my master's. "I can assure you, Cyrus, all will be well. The common people are attributing the fire to a haunting." He snorted derisively. "We can easily work this to our advantage. I still have the superior money, people, and loyalties than anyone else in this city. No one else realizes what I am doing. I can assure you my operatives are most highly trained."

There was a scrape of chairs on the gleaming floor, and the delicate tinkling of china. I didn't dare move from the shadows. Not even an inch. Trying to calm my breath, I strained to hear the men while frozen in terror.

"Yes. But I'm putting a lot at risk. Do you know that all of your slaves are secure, they know nothing?"

"Only the foreman. The rest are oblivious. Everything is going to plan. What it will take, Cyrus, is patience and competence from your end. I have already promised you your reward…"

Cyrus answered testily, "Yes, yes. But I want to make sure everything is in place."

"I have already assured you about my resources and superiority among the other fields."

"What about Dre Cullen?"

There was a heavy pause in the room. I held my breath, images of them discovering my hiding place flashed sickeningly through my mind.

"Dre Cullen is wealthy, its true. But he's politically detached. He has already made it quite clear he cares nothing for the dance of power."

"But he could care for something else."

There was a foot tapping on the floor. "Yes, and he probably does. For the meantime, though, he is not a threat to us or our plan. I am working on getting a spy into his household. The problem is, half of his slaves go missing after a few weeks. I've tried to catch one of them to interrogate, to see if a slave of the household knows something. But they are kept carefully separated."

There was another heavy pause of complete silence. "Very well, Dre Marsch. I will keep up my side of the bargain. I would suggest watching your back, though. A coincidence may not be at all coincidental."

"I am aware of that," Dre Marsch's oily voice was icy. "And I intend to."

The scrape of chairs again. The groan of a door opening. I sighed in relief, sagging weakly against the shrouded wall.

"Wait."

The voice was alarmingly close. Paralyzed, I stopped breathing. "What's that?"

Footsteps, coming closer.

The world was hazy, blurry around me. All I could see was darkness. All I could think about was the sharp sting of a whip across my back…

"Just a rag," Cyrus said dismissively from further away.

Dre Marsh's footsteps paused. He could be no more than two feet away from me, had I been able to see him.

"Damn slaves," he finally muttered, footsteps receding into the distance. The door swung shut with an ominous thud. Cautiously, I peered out of the closet. No one.

Dizzy with relief, I stopped to contemplate the conversation I had eavesdropped upon.

Dre Marsch was clearly planning something, and something dangerous. Something he didn't want discovered. I almost picked up the rag, realizing at the last moment I couldn't. Dre Marsch had seen it, and would realize if it was moved. The foreman knew I cleaned in here. The rag's moving might lead to uncomfortable questions. I already was in enough trouble as it was.

Dre Marsch. Dre Cullen. Emmett. All were plotting, planning, connected in some way. Resisting the urge to fish the ring out of my pocket, I carefully exited the study.

_Pieces. All pieces in a twisted puzzle. But which person is playing for the good? _

_Emmett. His plan, his brother, his secrecy. Could it have been a setup? No. _

_I could tell now. Save myself the trouble, the consequences if I'm found out. I'm deeper than I thought I would be, and in a swamp._ Powerful people, dark, secretive people were plotting. And I had been thrown into the middle.

What kind of game were they playing?

_A dangerous one. _

That was obvious.

And it seemed I was now a player.

-----------------------------------

**There is more Cullen/Hale interaction with Bella to come. The plot is still being constructed. **

**Thank you to everyone who gave me a quote last chapter. **

**I have another psyche question this chapter. **

**Pick one of the three animals in each grouping and record that animal's number. The sum of all of your choices is what you scored on the personality test. Send me the score, or don't, and I'll—as always—give you the significance of your results next chapter. **

**Koala Bear 2  
Polar Bear 3  
Panda 1 **

**Eagle 3  
Seagull 2  
Pigeon 1 **

**Cat 3  
Dog 2  
Bird 1 **

**Hamster 2  
Rabbit 1  
Squirrel 3 **

**Sheep 1  
Deer 2  
Goat 3 **

**Dolphin 1  
Shark 3  
Whale 2 **

**Elephant 2  
Lion 1  
Tiger 3 **

**Swan 1  
Goose 3  
Hen 2 **

**As always, reviews, suggestions, comments, and critiques are always appreciated. I'm trying to write the next chapter as quickly as I can.**

**-------------------------------------------- **

**Lon-Dubh. **


	9. Chapter 8: The Game Begins

**Hello everyone. I managed to update fairly quickly. **

**Thank you to lizbre, my beta, for helping me make my writing closer to flawless. **

**Enjoy! **

**---------------------------------------- **

Bella's POV:

Day after frustrating day, month after frustrating month. If I had been expecting my vague presumptions of some kind of major event to occur, I would have been wrong. Life went on as smoothly superficial as it always had, glibly masking the menace beneath. Had that lurking danger always been present, or was it just that I had now realized it was there?

It was frustrating. Working, cleaning, acting oblivious as I felt the subtle shift of the menace beneath the mask. Listening was all I could do. Quietly, carefully. That pursuit led me to at least one fruitful realization: No one pays attention to slaves. Much of the noble class either does not notice them, or does not believe they are intelligent enough to comprehend. But that insight had quickly turned sour as I realized there wasn't much to listen to.

Just whisperings…

_The city's haunted, you know? A friend told me she heard wailing outside the old bellower, at midnight… _

_There were sounds over there, the other day. I went to look, but guess what was there? Nothing. _

_I bet its them ghosts from the dungeons. They'll get back at the Guard one of these days, mark my words… _

And of course, the ever oppressive curfew, hanging over my head as a constant reminder of what had happened that night. But no substantial clues ever came forward. And Emmett never showed up again.

It seemed surreal that life could continue so undisturbed. Ebba kept going out of her way to be vindictive, work still needed to be done, and the eyes still haunted my dreams. Occasionally the slightest ripple in the glassy pool would send excitement through the area.

People were taken for questioning.

My palms turned sweaty at the thought of those people's alarmed, haunted expressions after they returned from the "questionings". A clammy sweat always came to my forehead when the whispers came through, hinting at more interrogations. In my vivid imagination, I could easily visualize being hauled into a dark room, the foreman before me, speaking in his gruff cadence.

Now I was back in the mirror room. It seemed ironic, almost. This was the place it had really started for me. And now it was as silent, as ghostly as a marble tomb. Silver moonlight was reflected across the mirror's shimmering surface to dance across the polished floor. And again their only sound was that of the rag, gently wiping the mirror, and my own shallow breathing.

It seemed that in some ways, some places never changed.

The first time the call echoed through the room, I attributed it to the wind. Gently blowing the words that I desperately needed to hear into my ears.

"Isabella," the word drifted softly through the room. Freezing, I slowly looked around. The polished surfaces gleamed in a ghostly manor, and long shadows cast from arching pillars seemed to writhe. My breath froze in my lungs as my blood chilled, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

"Isabella," Louder this time.

I almost screamed when the shape emerged from the darkness. Hulking, huge, menacing. Whipping around, I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest as the shape approached. Hands trembling, I backed up slowly, as if any sudden movement would see the sinister shape pouncing upon me.

"Isabella, it's just me," even from the darkness without seeing his expression, even with the months that had separated us, I still remembered his voice. Low, bass, holding a hint of amusement, a hint of mischievousness.

I observably sighed in relief. "Emmett."

A slight, thin shadow seemed to detach itself from Emmett's hulking form, contrasting sharply with his mass. Frowning in surprise, I watched as both drew silently closer. Finally I could make out Emmett's broad face through the dark. Hair as dark and curly as always, mouth stretched into a slight grin, impossibly pale skin seeming to emanate illumination of its own.

"How are you doing?" His casual question, phrased so nonchalantly, sparked my volatile temper.

"How do you think I'm doing?" I snapped quietly, still aware enough of my surroundings not to wake up half the household. "You just left me! It's been months, and nothing! They're threatening people who know anything about the fire to tell." Emmett's mouth hung slack in horrified surprise, surveying me anxiously. "I didn't tell," I whispered scathingly. "Though I was tempted after you left me in a dark alleyway with no explanations whatsoever. What made you decide to grace me with your presence again?"

Emmett's expression was a comic mix of bewilderment and surprise, as if he had just heard a parrot meow. He opened his mouth hesitantly, flawless teeth gleaming sinisterly in the moonlight.

"You were right about her, you know," a chime-like musing voice emanated from the shadows. I glanced quickly in the direction the mysterious speaker had come from, realizing momentarily that I had completely forgotten about the second shadow. It approached behind Emmett; gilding to effortlessly it really did seem to be a phantasm.

It was a girl, dark hair worn in an unusually short style. Almost painfully thin, with delicate but breathtaking features, she scrutinized me curiously. And then I noticed. Her eyes. The same glowing, burnt gold. The same quality about them that seemed to glow. The same presence that hinted at danger, a suggestion I couldn't obey.

Abruptly, a wondrously musical laugh fell out of her full lips, filling the tomblike hall with the sound of wind chimes. "But, of course, I knew you would be," she continued, as she hadn't just paused for a few seconds to scrutinize me. Lips curling upward, as if in some private joke, she cast a sliding glance at Emmett's hunched figure.

"Isabella, this is my sister, Mary." Raising my eyebrows at Emmett's matter-of-fact proclamation, I glanced furtively at Mary.

"What are you, adopted? Or did Mary end up on the shallow end of the gene pool?" The sarcastic question slipped out of my lips before I could comprehend the query actually mentally registering. Both laughed this time, blatantly not at all offended by my question.

"We're adopted," Mary explained, eyes dancing. Abruptly sobering, she stilled. "But that's not what we came here to discuss."

"No," Emmett agreed, casting a quick glance behind his shoulder. "I said before I couldn't tell you anything without talking to my group…"

"I remember."

"Well, I did. And Al—Mary and Anthony and some others discussed it…"

"What is it, a family owned business?" I asked dryly.

"Kind of," Alice volunteered, gaze edgily flicking from the shadows along the walls back to me.

"And you decided you needed me? Why?"

Emmett looked slightly disconcerted, and Mary murmured something along the lines of "I told you so."

"We don't have an… operative in Dre Marsch's mansion, and we need one."

"How do you know you can trust me?"

"How do you know you can trust us?" Mary asked rhetorically, but offhandedly, as if she had already prepared an answer beforehand.

I stared at both for a minute. They were right. I didn't know them, not really. I didn't know them, anything about them, what their intentions were, how they were linked with Dre Cullen, and if my association with them would lead to bad ends.

_It's a game,_ I reminded myself. _But you have already realized you're a player. You're involved, and you can't change that fact. _

Finally, I broke the oppressive silence, glancing at the position of the moon to ascertain the time. Almost midnight. "What exactly do you do?"

"We—don't like the Guard noticing us. Among our many objectives, we also commit some acts of questionable nature… Including larceny, purgery, treason, theft, the illegal freeing of slaves, impersonation, and the occasional act of destroying public property." Emmett replied glibly, stating the list of crimes so unhesitant and naturally he could have been talking about tea prices.

"Or the not-so-occasional, not-so-called-for arson of governmental buildings," Mary murmured, stopping her surveying of the surroundings long enough to shoot Emmett a scathing glance. Shifting her focus back to me, she continued, "We try to balance the control of power in cities. It causes problems when too few people have too much power. We have certain… resources that allow us to do our work."

"And you want me to help," I clarified, frowning.

"Yes. You shouldn't trust us, really. You have no reason to, and no reason to help. Life would be a lot less complicated if it didn't involve us."

Emmett smiled wickedly, adding, "But not as much fun."

Choking back a laugh, I vaguely wondered why I found this situation even remotely amusing. Being caught, could conceivably, lead to my death.

"We have no reason to trust you," Mary continued, ignoring her older brother's commentary, "But we will. You have no reason to trust us. But you will." Her almost prophetic words hung heavily in the air. With a deep, unvoiced conviction, I knew they were true.

"Doing this is making a difference," Emmett added, uncharacteristically somber. "And it's dangerous."

"You think my life's all that safe now?"

"Emmett," Mary suddenly hissed, eyes flicking rapidly back and forth from the windows, moonlight streaming steadily in. "We need to go. Now."

Emmett didn't question her abrupt announcement. Nodding swiftly, both began backing into the shadows.

"There isn't enough time now for details. You need to be told more so you can begin helping and passing on information, and you should meet the rest of our group. Meet us by the dried-up well near the docks at one o'clock tomorrow morning. Make sure you aren't followed. We'll tell you more then, if you come." Alice's melodic voice rang softly through the darkness.

"Think it over," Emmett advised from the darkness, a suppressed note of amusement in his deep tone.

And then there was just darkness, broken only by the silvery strands of luminescent moonlight. Alone in the dark, I gazed confusedly at the moon. On some deep level, I sensed my decision would be pivotal.

But what will I choose?

_"You have no reason to trust us. But you will." _The vague echoes of Mary's musical yet foreboding voice filtered softly through the room.

Sighing, I turned away from the silvery orb. _She already knows what my choice will be. The puzzle isn't becoming clearer, more pieces are being added. _

_You know what your choice will be too. _

Resting my head against the icy hardness of a marble pillar, I closed my eyes.

Now all I had to figure out was how to get out of the house, travel halfway across the city after curfew, and not be seen by anybody.

_I am a player in the game. I had known that before. I still don't really understand what game I am playing. But this changes everything. Really, nothing has happened so far. _

_Tomorrow, the game _really _begins. _

-----------------------------------

**So we're finally getting into the thick of the plot…. I'll try to update as quickly as I can. **

**Note: Yes, Emmett did lie about Alice's name as well as Edward's. But there's always a reason behind the action. **

**Here's so score sheet to your answers from the question last chapter: **

**Between 8 - 11 points:  
You are passive, sentimental, emotional, lack self-confidence, but are creative and rational.  
**

**Between 12 - 15 points:  
You belong to the fun-seekers, risk takers, adventurous and spontaneous types, but are not very rational.  
**

**Between 16 - 19 points:  
You are active, like challenges, optimistic, hard-working, and are always working towards a set goal.  
**

**Between 20 - 24 points:  
You have a strong character and you are aggressive and ambitious. You were born to lead. **

**--------------------- **

**And here's the next question: **

**You are walking in a field of rolling green grass and the wind is blowing soothingly upon your face when you see a box in the middle of the field. Is it  
a. Open?  
b. Closed? **

**As always, questions, comments, and critiques are always appreciated. **

**Lon-Dubh **


	10. Chapter 9: The Players

**Hello, everyone. I haven't updated as soon as I had anticipated, but I made this chapter extra-long to make up for it. **

**Some of you might be confused. To those of you who aren't ignore this. For some reason, my chapter was loaded in all italics, which wasn't intended. I was forced to change the chapter to change it. I'm sorry for any confusion or inconvenience.**

**------------------------------- **

Bella's POV:

I paused, breath catching in my throat. Through the oppressing gloom ahead I could vaguely make out the dim shape. The faint sound of boots tapping against cobblestones echoed eerily through the narrow alleyway where I stood, petrified. A crimson cloak billowed out behind the figure, a torch held aloft. I couldn't' even allow myself to breath, couldn't think of anything except for the chance that the figure might see me.

I sagged in relief as the Guard swept around a corner, not bothering to glance into my shaded hiding place. The entire city seemed full of menacing, dancing shadows as I crept through it, sure at any moment I would be discovered. Stars sparkled radiantly overhead, but tonight I didn't take the time to admire them. Tonight, all that mattered was where I was going.

The choice hadn't been a difficult one, when it truly came down to it. In some way, Mary knew me almost better than I knew myself. And in some way, on some level I didn't fully comprehend, I was drawn towards whatever destiny she was entangled with.

Glancing at the moon, I silently cursed, something I rarely did. My progress through the darkened city had been painfully slow, full of abrupt halts such as the one that had just occurred. Even now I was probably late to the rendezvous.

A sudden, icy wind swept through the streets. Shivering, I continued, glancing uneasily at the looming buildings surrounding me in an ominous cage. I hadn't thought of a better idea to get all of the way across the city than simply to walk across it. The idea was so ludicrous, I realized then that it might work.

Heart still pounding, I continued through the darkened streets, wincing slightly at the soft whisper of my passage. The sharp odor of salt intensified as I made my painstakingly slow progress, lifting my spirits slightly. I was getting closer.

Shifting my attention downwards, I focused on not tripping. At home, I had been infamous for my clumsiness. But then, at home, I had been a lot of things I no longer was.

_Like what? Cautious? Sane?_

Shaking my head, I continued. Some questions had no answers.

Constantly, I glanced up at the moon, my only resource for the time. Climbing past its zenith, it was now slowly lowering towards the western horizon. My time was almost up.

Glancing anxiously through the gloom, I gripped the rough stone wall near me. Mentally calculating of much farther it was, I reluctantly picked up my pace. There was something alarming about simply walking the streets in the dead of night. Or morning.

I slowed, hearing the crash of waves against a pier. Mary's words came back to me, echoing strangely.

_Meet us by the dried-up well near the docks at one o'clock tomorrow morning._

Heart thumping, I slowly made my way through the oppressing darkness, which seemed to close in around me. The gloomy air felt as if it was tangible, gathering in my lungs. Breathing short and shallow, I turned sharply hearing the faint noise behind me.

_Make sure you aren't followed._

Holding stalk-still, I scrutinized the darkness fearfully. Someone could be following me. Just waiting for the opportune moment…

I stood, petrified for a few more moments, eyes frantically attempting to discern something through the impenetrable gloom. Nothing stirred.

Turning away, I shook my head mutely. What had I expected? A looming shadow, clad in a black cloak, following me? But here, in the icy grips of night, within the realm of fear and paranoia, everything seemed surreal. Every twisted shadow, every play of the moonlight across muck covered stones was contorted into something from a nightmare.

I could hear my own breathing. Shallow, but steady. Concentrating on it, I attempted not to allow my imagination to run from shadows.

_I have to be getting close…._

Then I saw it. The houses around me were no longer the stately, towering structures. But poor and stooped, seeming ready to topple over at any moment. The groan of waves was a constant undertone, carrying through the calm air with startling clarity.

The well stood near the edge of the square, standing old and forlorn, weeds gathering untended around its crumbling base. Only thirty yards separated me from it. But now, the thirty yards were dangerous. An open stretch of land, moonlight illuminating the cracks in the worn walkway. It was so far away. So close, and yet at the same moment, so terribly out of reach.

Mentally, I calculated my chances. Clenching my hands, I realized my only option was to run for it. A welcoming shadow stood behind the well, beckoning.

_Now all you have to do is not trip…_

I ran. Stumbling a few times, my hair tumbled behind my shoulders as I bolted across the vast, open stretch. Eyes seemed to watch me from the shadows as I made my perilous passage. Finally, I skidded to a halt. Drawing into the darkness, I frantically attempted to calm my labored breathing, which it seemed the entire city should be able to hear. Closing my eyes, I sank further into the darkness.

The very air seemed to hold a sinister, icy edge. Eyes snapping open, I examined where I stood. Reaching out, I rested my hand on the edge of the well. The masoned stones were cracked and unstable, and spindly weeds crawled precariously up its edge. Glancing at the sky, I tried to discern the time.

Frowning, another thought occurred.

_Where is everybody?_

_You should meet the rest of our group._

Mary had said that, I'd been certain.

Glancing around, as if shapes would suddenly appear in midair through the darkness, I bit my lip.

_What if it was a setup? What if they just lured you out here?_

_But for what reason?_ I argued with myself. _Why would they do that?_

_I don't know. But they obviously have their motives. And you know nothing about them…_

"Isabella," a voice hissed from the darkness. I had to clamp my lips together not to scream, déjà vu sweeping over me.

Whirling around, my breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding wildly.

Emmett emerged from the darkness, wearing a broad smile. His straight teeth flashed menacingly in the moonlight, his eyes laughing.

"Don't do that," I snapped, conscious enough of my surroundings to whisper.

"Do what?"

Opening my mouth to answer, I closed it, shaking my head. "Where is everyone?"

Emmett's lips quirked up at the corners, and he drew closer, with a silent grace I envied. "Right bellow you."

Eyeing him dubiously, I glanced downwards despite myself. "Really?" I put on a tone of vague interest. "I didn't realize your family was cobblestones. Though it may have explained where you got your intelligence…"

Emmett's mischievous look didn't waver, his grin only widening. "Good. I though you might start to act different once you got involved with this," he stopped to wave his arm vaguely. "But you're still just as clumsy and grumpy as normal."

"Thanks."

"Anyway," Emmett continued glibly, ignoring my sarcastic comment. "I wasn't lying. They really are right beneath you." Drawing closer, he slung a pack off of his broad shoulders. Frowning I drew closer as he plunged a pale hand in the sack. Straightening, he drew a thick rope out of the bag. Shaking dark curly hair away from his pale forehead, he moved past me. Turning, I followed him to the edge of the well.

Slinging the rope over the axle where the bucket and rope would have hung had the well not dried up, he allowed a frayed end to fall into the darkness. Looking dubiously into the abyss, I glanced back into Emmett's grinning face.

"They aren't…"

"Down there," Emmett grinned, gesturing downwards. "Yes." Pausing he stood back, golden eyes sparkling and gesturing grandly with a muscular arm. "One way ticket to the underworld. Admit one."

Glaring at his calmly smoothly professional tone, I drew closer the well's edge. "Will the rope hold?" I asked nervously, staring into the dark drop.

Emmett snorted loudly, and I glanced into the darkness, alarmed by the raucous noise, I stared at the houses edging the square nervously.

"How heavy do you think you are?" Emmett asked, disapprovingly eyeing my thin appearance. Catching my nervous glance, he flashed a quick grin. "And don't worry about being caught, not once you get this far at least. The residents wouldn't report anything. Hatred of the Guard runs deep in the area. Besides, they all have a little extra _incentive_ to keep their mouths closed."

"Bribes?" I asked, genuinely amused.

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"And satisfaction brought it back."

"Yes, well, you aren't a cat. You don't have nine lives." Gliding closer, he tugged on the rope, testing it. "Down you go."

Biting my lip nervously, I edged toward the well. Slinging one foot over the edge, and then the other, I seized the rope to keep my balance.

"You're one of the clumsiest people I've ever met, and that's saying something" Emmett grinned as if at some inside joke. Glancing at something on his wrist, his smile vanished. "We're late already."

"Fine," I grumbled, attempting to cover my anxiety with sarcasm. Unsuccessfully.

"Its fine, Isabella," Emmett rolled his bright eyes.

"Well, as you just pointed out, I'm not a cat. I don't have a life to spare by dying from falling into a dried-up well."

"Just go," Emmett sighed, holding an end of the rope securely. "You'll be fine."

Nervously, I peered into the dark abyss. Not even the iridescent silvery moonlight could reach farther than a few feet down. The rope was thick and coarse under my calloused fingers, slackened slightly with sweat.

Grabbing it more securely, I cast one last glance at Emmett. His face was contorted with the effort not to laugh, holding onto the rope securely. Glaring daggers, I reluctantly let my feet drop.

Holding on for dear life, I slowly allowed myself slide down the lifeline, into the impenetrable gloom. My breathing echoed ominously in the narrow space as I made my descent. I felt myself slide further into the abyss.

I seemed to be going in the darkness for forever. Glancing down, I sighed in relief as I saw a pinprick of light below me. Moving faster, I bit my lip as the rope burning my palms, registering sharp pain into my consciousness.

Near the bottom, hands slick with perspiration, I slipped. Breath catching in my throat, I tumbled to the ground. Luckily, it wasn't a far drop.

I hit the ground on my feet, stumbling slightly. Icy cold hands caught my arm, preventing me from falling. Opening my eyes, the brilliance of a torch momentarily blinded me. Blinking at my eyes adjusted, I glanced at me surroundings.

It was a dark cavernous tunnel, hewn roughly into the earth. The walls and floor were dirt, laced with roots. Torches lined the rough russet walls on brackets, illuminating the passageway for twenty feet before disappearing into the darkness.

A group of people stood to the side, faces shadowed in the flickering light. Turning my attention, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

His skin was just as abnormally pale as Mary's and Emmett's had been, smooth and flawless as polished marble. Tousled, bronze hair seemed to glow with the background of fiery light, features contrasting sharply with his semi dark surroundings. His features were astoundingly flawless, long eyelashes framing butterscotch irises.

He was breathtaking. And yet, there was something there. Something that resided deeper than his skin, that pulled me towards him. A slight aura of deep sadness seemed to hang around him.

I hadn't realized I was still staring until he moved, letting his chillingly cold hand fall from my arm. A faintly, crooked smiled pulled up the corner of his smooth lips. Devastating.

"How is it that whenever I see you, you always seem to be falling?" His voice was vaguely familiar, smooth like new velvet.

Pulling back, I bit the inside of my mouth to stop from staring like an idiot. "Maybe it's you," I suggested, striving to make my voice confident in front of him. Whoever he was.

A thump brought my attention away from his face, having me spinning my head backwards to see. Emmett stood a few feet behind me, a grin spreading across his broad features. "Maybe she has a point there."

Turning back, I found the boy raising an eyebrow, pulling back into the darkness. I almost yelped in surprise as I felt Emmett seize me arm, pulling me towards the group of shadowed figures.

Grumbling about people who didn't know their own strength, I allowed myself to be half led, half dragged along. Emmett's booming bass laugh sounded in front of me, causing me to wonder how he could have possibly heard my mumbled remark.

"This," he said halting, "Is the group."

They pulled forward, a few lingering back. Mary's familiar face was illuminated in the darkness, a smile spread across her pixy-like features. A lean, muscular man with golden hair stood behind her, staring at me intensely. A blonde girl stood a little to the side, a look of disgusted boredom upon her impossibly lovely face. Standing a little to the side were a couple people, grouped together. Less extraordinary looking, I gazed in shock as I recognized the girl who had been sold to Dre Cullen months ago.

I didn't have time to phrase a coherent question before it was answered, though.

My eyes snapped to two more shapes, standing closely together, prominent. The woman had the same place skin as many of the others, caramel hair hanging in soft waves down her back. An air of loving calmness seemed to emanate from her, her appearance easily less intimidating than the rest of what I assumed to be her family.

But it was the man who stood near her I couldn't believe.

_Dre Cullen._ Same pale skin, golden hair, smooth expression. But now, and air of kind serenity, similar to the woman he was standing near, seemed to hang around him. His brilliant eyes held none of the cold indifference I had dreaded earlier. Just a calm concern, and sharp intellect.

"I knew you would come," Mary uttered, her melodic voice echoing prettily through the cavern. She drew closer to me, smiling widely, dark hair blending in with the gloom behind her. She paused to glance behind her, staring in particular at the boy who had caught me. "When will you learn to trust me," she continued in a mock, mournful tone.

Laughing, Emmett shifted to stand by the beautiful woman, placing a large hand on her narrow shoulders. "This is Rosalie, Jasper, Esme," he started, nodding to each one in turn. " Carlisle," he nodded to Dre Cullen. "Edward, and Alice."

"What?" I asked, perplexed. Casting a glance at Mary, I looked back towards Emmett. "You told me her name was Mary. And his was Anthony." I glanced quickly at Edward. His face was partially shadowed, but I could tell he was staring at me. The thought sent wonderfully disagreeable goose bumps up my back.

Emmett looked guilty, glancing at Carlisle, a.k.a., Dre Cullen. "I had to use fake names until I knew I could trust you. And we always call each other by our middle names outside." He waved vaguely at the ceiling.

"So what's your real name?" I asked acidically. "George?"

Alice laughed, so did Carlisle, Esme, and Jasper. A soft, melodic chuckle rang out behind me, reminding me of Edward's presence.

"No." Emmett explained, grinning. "My name actually is Emmett. You heard it already so I couldn't have changed it."

"Perhaps we should get to the business of why we are here?" Carlisle suggested mildly, stepping forward. Thoughts spun chaotically in my head. I struggled mentally to come to terms with all of it. Dre Cullen wasn't an evil murderer. But what happened to all his slaves? Anthony was Edward, Mary was Alice. There was a whole group in the underworld of the city, taking place right under the noses of the Guard.

_The puzzle was coming together._

"Welcome, Isabella, to our group," Carlisle continued, smiling slightly at me. The contrast between his behavior here and his façade earlier were striking. "We make it our job to keep peace by balancing power, and freeing slaves." I blushed slightly, hyperaware of the brand on my ankle.

Esme gilded forward, gently placing a white hand on Carlisle's arm. Carlisle glanced at her quickly, averting his attention back to me. "Your initial job will be to spy on the Marsch household, bringing information back to us. We will probably need your help with other tasks in the future, but that is for a later date." His voice echoed, coming back to me long after he had halted speaking.

Nodding, I opened my mouth. "I already found out something…" My voice dwindled off as I glanced around the circle unsurely. Emmett and Alice gave me an encouraging smile, and a sudden wave of calm swept through me. "Dre Marsch and a man named Cyrus are planning something. After the records hall caught on fire," I paused to glance at Emmett, his face was guilty in the flickering light. "They were worried that you or whomever burned the building did it to target them, and had found out something in their records."

Carlisle frowned, troubled. "This is serious. We will need you to keep watching for more information before we can do anything, though." Nodding, I backed up slightly.

They continued discussing plans, one of the others that apparently didn't belong to the family speaking up for a moment. But the words flew in and out of my ears, hardly registering. I had found out so much. It seemed to finally be fitting together. But now, I realized it was more tangled, more dangerous than I had anticipated.

Eventually, the meeting broke up. The group headed through one of the shaded tunnels as I moved back towards the rope.

"Emmett," Alice's clear voice rang through the semi gloom. Carlisle needs to ask you something."

"In a moment," he said, moving to help me.

"Now," Alice dissented, turned to look at him, her face serious.

Brow furrowing, Emmett turned to Edward. "Will you help her? I guess I need to go."

Edward's flawless face appeared mildly confused, and he kept glancing from Alice, to me. Nodding mutely, he moved forward.

"I'll go up first," he offered, butterscotch eyes remote and smoldering. "Then I can pull you up."

Dazed, I nodded. "Will you be able to?"

His lips quirked into a faint smile. "I'm stronger than I look."

And then he disappeared. Waiting, I grabbed the rope. Feeling a tug, I bemusedly held on. He was fast.

Eventually, I could see the night sky again. Climbing clumsily over the edge of the well, I stared at the heavens. Stars glimmered brightly, distant fires in the black, silken sky. The moon was sinking towards the western horizon.

"It's beautiful, isn't it," Edward murmured. I jumped, not realizing how close to me he was. If I had leaned back, I could have felt him. "Sometimes, I forget to look at it. Sometimes, the stars seem to disappear, don't they?"

Turning, my breath caught in my throat. His face was so close, yet expression so far away, rendering his features even more beautiful. I could smell him, an intoxicatingly sweet scent. Drawing in chilly air, I forced myself to stop staring.

"Yes," I agreed, just as softly as he. "But no matter how dark the night is, there's always a sunrise."

He glanced sharply at me, butterscotch eyes enigmatic. "Perhaps. But nights are long."

"But it's never always night."

A small chuckle escaped his perfect lips. "You aren't what I expected, Isabella." It sounded so wonderful, him even saying my name.

"People are different then they seem."

"Yes," he agreed, softly. "I should know."

Frowning, I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, when he cut me off.

"You should probably go. It's a long ways to the Marsch Mansion. And it's almost dawn."

I nodded, turning to leave. Not being able to resist one last glance, I turned to see Edward standing alone, beautiful as a carved statue. "Goodbye."

His eyes flickered towards mine. "Goodbye, Isabella. Be safe."

His words still ringing in my ears, I allowed the darkness to swallow me.

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**Enter Edward…………. Some of you are thinking "finally", right now. And maybe I did wait a while to truly introduce him into dear Isabella's life, but everything has a purpose. But I can say confidently Edward's is certainly not a cameo appearance. **

**Regarding the last personality question: **

**Open: You are open-minded and somewhat extroverted. You enjoy other's company and enjoy talking freely to others. **

**Closed. You are generally more introverted, not enjoying other's company the way some might. Though you aren't necessarily paranoid or anti-social, you don't like sharing secrets. **

**Question for this chapter. **

**Imagine you are walking through a forest. It could be any forest, anywhere in the world. It doesn't matter how you got there. **

**Did you see a path? **

**a. Yes **

**b. No **


	11. Chapter 10: A Winning Situation

**I'm sorry I haven't updated recently. But, in the past chapters, I've been making them longer. I hope they are worth your wait. **

**Thank you to my beta, lizbre, for having the talent of improving my writing, while being able to encourage me at the same time. **

**Enjoy! **

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Bella's POV:

The marketplace was crowded and a plethora of smells swirled around me, almost in a nauseating cycle. Sweat, salt, spices, the mouthwatering odor of cooking meat, and the lightest trace of the sewers lingered in the air. People of all ages and stations hurried around, bright expensive silks blatantly standing out against the rougher, homespun tunics.

The sky was an omnipresent gray, faint echoes of rolling thunder the vague whisper of rain to come. The entire city seemed to be draped in a dark shroud, gloomy and muted. But even in the midst of the dreadfully dreary atmosphere, the hoarse cries of shop owners and street vendors still rang out raucously over the crowd, advertising their goods.

The roughly woven basket was heavy with fruits as I laboriously made my way through the bustling crowd, hyperaware of the presence of Ebba beside me. The memory of how I had happened to get to my current position still caused me a faint smile

_The day was similar to the one that now mantled the city. It had been the first time I had been let out of the house, legally, since I had arrived. Ebba's duties consisted of shopping the markets for fresh produce and other items. Her long term in the position was owed entirely to the fact her tongue was sharper than the wicked daggers the Guard wore sheathed in their belts, and the fact half the shopkeepers had a deep-seated, if unadmitted, fear of the fierce Gorman. _

_I had been extremely busy, and with her disagreeable nature and freedom to choose her assistant when shopping, Ebba had extorted the opportunity to her full advantage. _

_"You're going shopping with me tomorrow," she snapped in her perpetually sour tone, surveying my half finished work with beady eyes. _

_Being an extraordinarily ungifted liar caused me to have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing. I had been waiting for an opportunity like this for weeks, ever since after a few passed messages, the Alice had told me it was imperative that I was able to get outside at least once a week. _

_"It's getting chancy, you see, Bella. You've been passing on all the information you have gathered through us twice a week." Sadly, the information I had gathered wasn't much. "But we've been personally picking that information up since you started, but it's dangerous. If we were to be caught, if someone saw, or suspected… It also depends on who is here at the time. For me, I suppose it wouldn't be so serious…" She had paused to chew anxiously on her lip, dark eyes troubled. Abruptly the grave look in her eyes transformed into one of humor. "But if it were Emmett…. The Guard is more prone to take him seriously. Add that to the fact he has the talent of not being able to keep his mouth shut…" _

_So she had told me they could work out a new system. I had to be able to get outside, during the day, with the full knowledge of my "owners". Once that had happened, she had informed, quite casually, that they could arrange for me to come outside all of the time. Bewildered and vaguely amused, I had looked to any opportunities. Unfortunately, that had been the tricky part. _

_So when Ebba came to me, bearing a priceless gift wrapped in malice, I had accepted with concealed delight. Still wondering how the Cullen's would manage to pull off convincing Ebba to take me out everyday, or how they would even be aware of the fact I was going outside the next day at all, I had drifted to sleep. _

_The swirl of voices and smells had come as a slight shock in contrast to the tomblike silence I had grown accustomed to. Despite Alice's amusement, I still felt the claws of anxiousness clinging around the edge of my consciousness. _

_Ebba was distant, to state it lightly. While haggling fiercely with vendors that held the slightest hint of dread in their eyes, Ebba had shoved all the staggeringly cumbersome products of her conversations on me. _

_It was almost time to head back, and I had felt discouraged. Arms and back aching fiercely from the bundle I had carted around for the entire afternoon, and disappointed in the fact I had seen neither hide nor hair of any of the Cullens, change had hit the scene as swiftly as the lightning bolts arching through the sky. _

_Walking to the side of Ebba's rigid figure, and not entirely paying attention, I had run face first into what felt like a brick wall. Stumbling and just barely managing not to fall onto the muck coated ground, I strained my neck to catch a glimpse of what I had run into. _

_Carlisle, clothed fully in glimmering magnificent silks and his coldly brutal façade, stood haughtily before me. Jasper flanked him, his face a mixture of aloofness and contempt. Both sets of golden eyes were hard and chilled as ice, both faces set into the masks of indifferent distain. _

_"Excuse us," Carlisle began, his commonly warmly kind voice filled with venom. "I wasn't aware people like her," He cast a disdainful glance over me before turning to Ebba, "were allowed in the common markets." _

_He paused, turning his golden gaze to his son standing closely behind him. Turning his attention back to the fierce Gorman woman, he continued. "I would appreciate it if you would not bring her into the markets anymore. I assure you, you aren't doing the public a favor." If I hadn't known how Carlisle, or Dre Cullen, was normally, I would have been stung by the blatant insult. I still was, a little, even with the knowledge the entire thing was a complete façade. Remembering in the last moment to look angered and hurt, I quickly arranged my expression to reflect what I hoped was shocked and injured. _

_And, without even sparing a spiteful glance backwards, he and Jasper has swept off, leaving one pretending girl and one fuming Gorman woman behind in the shoving crowd. _

Needless to say, since then, I had always accompanied Ebba. It really was a win-win-win situation. I got what I wanted, the Cullens got what they wanted, and Ebba believed she was both making me unhappy as well as infuriating a noble in one go.

Now, standing in the marketplace today, I couldn't help but feeling dejected. Life as a slave was bitterly cruel, and adding that to the fact that I no longer could look forward to one of the Cullen's visits at least twice a weak, commonly more, led life felt to be wearing on me.

I hadn't realized how much I had become attached to each member of the family, even in such a short amount of time. That, added to the knowledge they were playing a dangerous game, one which I was involved in, caused me to miss their presence even more. Now, with the constant danger and constraints I was living in, it added to the fact I that had virtually no contact with any friendly faces, seemed to be casting a shroud as heavy as the clouds overhead upon me. I hadn't realized how much I had missed seeing one of the Cullens, once a week, when they came around to collect the information I had gathered.

Sometimes it was Emmett, his large form and deep voice always startling me in the darkness, his open smile an amused outlook on life never failing to lighten my mood.

Alice would come by often. Always as intense, yet amused, always seeming to know things I couldn't comprehend. A stronger relationship had grown between us, her blatant assertiveness and my hesitant shy nature.

And then I had grown accustomed to other members of the family. Jasper, his initially quiet demeanor belaying the sharp intelligence and keen sense of humor. There was always a kind of constrained air about him, a slight distance. But his warm eyes contrasted with that occasionally aloof behavior. An apt scholar and reader, he was always a source of stories and an interesting view of the world. I always enjoyed his visits. And eventually, even though of his strange distance, a friendship had grown between us.

Esme had come by as well. My first impression of her had proved to be accurate, in more ways than one. Her soft demeanor, as well as caring disposition seemed to precisely mirror her soft yet beautiful outer image. For a while, Esme's gentle kindness had been a stab in the heart: a reminder of my own mother. But it was impossible not to like someone such as her, and she had quickly adopted the attitude of a mother towards me.

It had surprised me the fist time Carlisle came by. I was under the vague impression that he was too busy to deal with the more trivial tasks of whatever grandiose scheme he was planning. Not being able to shake my first impression of him entirely, I was, despite my better judgment, closed towards his pleasant overtures of trust.

_"You must forgive me, Isabella," he said, pausing to bend his golden hair, dimmed in the moonlight, as if in grief. His voice was smooth and elegant, holding the hint of an accent I couldn't quite place. "I couldn't outbid Dre Marsch for your… custody. It would have been conspicuous. Sometimes I wonder how many lives are changed because of our need to remain undetected." _

_He looked up, resonating tone seeming to echo in the darkened room. His eyes seemed darker, but no less compassionate. There was something about him, an air of caring devotion, which differed from anyone I had ever met. This earnest compassion, his struggle against odds that was making an unnecessary risk on his part, was what drew me to the leader of the group as plans progressed. "Sometimes it seems we fight unbeatable opponents. But we struggle because we can. And if we don't, who else will?" _

I had come to look forward to their visits every moment of every day. They always took time to stay and talk. The only Cullen who had never come was Rosalie. So she remained a distant, if ethereally beautiful, figure in my mind.

Plans slowly unfolded, but information was coming painstakingly slow. Over time, I had learned more about each of the Cullens, directly or indirectly. Jasper and Alice were clearly devoted to each other, and there was little doubt who Emmett cared about. The depth to Esme and Carlisle's relationship had such affection I couldn't fully comprehend it. But Edward….

My stomach twisted into knots as I thought of him. Glaring at the rumbling, steely sky, I attempted to banish the sudden image of Edward's beautiful face from my mind. The first time he had shown up…

_"Isabella," the tenor of the voice wasn't one I recognized. In the room, where so much seemed more significant than perhaps it was, the strange present shocked me. _

_He emerged from the shadows, more lithely graceful than I would ever have the coordination to manage. Moonlight reflected from his pale, flawless face, which seemed to be an illumination itself in the dimness. Dark clothing clung to his broad shoulders, just the vaguest silhouette through the blackness. _

_"I'm sorry for startling you," he apologized swiftly, voice smooth as liquid velvet. Auburn hair hung over his furrowed forehead, faintly gleaming in hoary light. His eyes seemed darker, blending into the dusk as eternally deep pools. _

_I decided there was no reasons to let him know I wasn't out of breath only because he startled me. _

_"I'm coming for the information," he explained unnecessarily. "And Esme says you need company more often." _

_"Esme always thinks I need something." _

_He smiled crookedly, perfect teeth gleaming in moonlight. "Perhaps Esme is correct." _

_I bit the inside of my lip to stop from staring like a deficient imbecile. "Or she's in on some scheme with Alice." I grumbled, gaze captured on the pearly marble ground. _

_"Perhaps," Edward repeated, a hint of laughter in the tone. _

_Eyes flashing upwards, I stared at the godlike person in front of me. Standing so casually, I tried to imagine Alice and Esme ganging up on him. The image made me smile. _

_"What's funny?" He asked, a genuine tone of curiosity entering his voice. _

_I smiled again, meeting his eyes. "I was imagining Alice and Esme ganging up on you. You're no match for them." _

_"Of course not," he agreed, chuckling. Falling silent abruptly, he studied me with a sudden somber intensity that tempted me to flinch. The domineering silence stretched as we stared, one set of enigmatic eyes meeting chocolate ones. There seemed to be a strange depth to Edward. Some kind of secret I didn't know. Something he was hiding. _

_But then, most of the Cullens were like that. _

_His mood shifted again, and a devastating smile stretched across his faultless lips. "Anything to report," he asked, mockingly, though not towards me. _

_My mood sobered quickly in contrast to his light demeanor. "No," I sighed, allowing myself to slide to the floor. Resting my chin on my curled knees, I watched as Edward, much more gracefully, did the same. "I don't seem to be able to get anything. Even when I'm so close. It frustrating." _

_"Life's frustrating," Edward replied, still smiling. He ran a pale hand through his copper hair, causally tousling it. "But you were the one who reminded me that there's always a dawn." _

_"Go ahead and use my own words against me," I grumbled, annoyed. I thought I had spoken to softly for him to hear, but a hushed, velveteen laugh echoed through the entry hall. _

_"It's the best way to use words against people." _

_"And I'd suppose you have experience?" I asked acidically, striving not to glance at his beautiful visage, and loose my veneer of cool serenity. _

_"More experience than you'd care to know about." His voice was casual, but betrayed the vaguest hint of an ancient sadness. Glancing sharply at him, again I was hyperaware of the strange distance, not one of the obvious kind, that seemed to separate us. _

_We both lapsed into a silence, though this one was considerably less strained than the last. My gaze slowly wondering over the ornately carved windows, I couldn't resist the urge to glance back as Edward as I felt his eyes boring holes into my face. _

_There was something so beautifully devastating, so hauntingly enigmatic in his gaze, it took my breath away. The moonlight seemed to settle over his shoulders as if he had donned a jacket of silver, setting his cheekbones and eyes into dark contrast. _

_We stared at each other for a split second. It seemed both like the shortest time, and longer than I had lived in one instant. So intensely indescribable, no efforts could do it justice. _

_It was shattered when he abruptly sighed, turning his gaze towards the windows. "I suppose I need to go. Alice told me I needed to get back quickly." He rose, and I shrugged, not surprised at Alice's startlingly uncanny predictions. _

_"May I?" His voice was soft. I jerked my head upward, startled to realize Edward stood above me, a pale hand extended. _

_A hot blush mantled my cheeks, and I fervently prayed that he couldn't tell in the shrouding darkness. "Thanks," I stumbled, taking his offered hand. _

_It was icy cold, as all the Cullens seemed to be. But there was something altogether different about this, than someone else. I felt him pull me to my feet, as if I weighed nothing. We stood close. So close, I could have leaned forward, resting my head against his strong chest. I could smell the strangely intoxicating scent of his breath. His head was bent downwards, gaze drilling into mine. _

_We stood for another immeasurable moment, both standing still as the figures that adorned the engraved walls. Moonlight played like a spun curtain between us, both separating our bodies and bringing them closer together. My breath hitched in my throat, heart beating wildly. He opened his mouth, as if about to say something. _

_"I have to leave," he muttered, softly. But I knew with a conviction those weren't the words he had meant to utter. The heady, overpowering odor of his breath washed over my senses like a tidal wave. He was there, so elegant, so perfect. We were there, together. And then, he was gone. _

_Vanished into the darkness without a trace, in the way all the Cullens seemed to be able to do. _

_The thought sent off a vague spark in my brain. The Cullens. They all seemed to share qualities, uncanny characteristics. All seemed to be obscuring a secret, all linked together in a way I couldn't fathom. _

_That was the first moment I started thinking about the fact that the Cullens were hiding something from me. The first moment I had contemplated the fact that there was something… different about them. And that was the first moment, I considered the fact that I needed to keep an eye on them, just as much as Dre Marsch. _

_Disoriented, I had sat down again, mind spinning wildly. I had both dreaded, and anticipated his next return. _

The next time he had appeared, seemingly from thin air into the darkness, our conversation had been different. He had started interrogating me about the more personal aspects of my life. Likes, dislikes, interests. The only topic he kept a safe distance from was my past. Emmett had probably warned him.

I couldn't fathom his interest in me, still. Even after I had seen him numerous times, and we both steadily learned more about each other, he still seemed to have some deep, unmet expectation. Still, the thought of Edward, his copper hair, deeply enigmatic eyes, sent a jolt through my body.

The new system of delivering information was much safer, but cut off my visitors. I hadn't realized how lonely I had been before I had become involved with the game, until I no longer saw the players.

Gritting my teeth, I wrenched my attention back from the past to my present. Thunder rolled in the air again, the first drops of rain lightly tumbling onto my soiled tunic. Ebba cursed and grumbled in front of me, snapping at the weather, me, the high heavens, and the entire population of the city for being an inconvenience to her.

Hiding a smile, I anxiously studied the rapidly emptying town square. The gurgle and splash of the swan fountain reached my ears, the tip of the graceful sculpture just reaching me over the crowd. I scoured the remaining crowd for my contact. The girl I had seen the Cullens buy at the auction, the girl I had mourned as if dead. The few words we had managed to exchange taught me some about her. Her name was Angela. She was gentle, shy. But her quick intelligence and loyalty made her useful to the shadowed cause we both fought.

I sighed in relief upon catching sight of her, her long hair hanging in smoothly elegant waves over her shawl. Tentatively sliding my hand in the pocket of my tunic, containing both the Cullen's signet reign and the note, information scrawled over it in my untidy penmanship, I casually walked on. She turned around slowly, our eyes meeting briefly. Then, stumbling as if from the weight of the heavy basket I bore, I bumped into her. Carefully, my hand slid the note into her bag. Apologizing, I started to draw away, when I felt Angela furtively slide another piece of parchment into my own pocket. I fought to hide my surprise. I had never received anything in return.

Apologizing again, I met her eyes briefly, looking away. Ebba called out in front of me, cursing again in her native language. More chilling droplets were starting to fall from the clouded heavens, and cries and protests of people rang throughout the square. I hurried after Ebba, resisting the urge to feel my pocket.

Our trek through the city was hurried, and the grand buildings rose around us rose in a menacing wall. My stomach was knotted with anxiety by the time we finally made it back to the household. Escaping to the slaves' courtyard as soon as I could, I drew the note out of my pocket with trembling hands.

It was raining heavily now, the iridescent drops cascading to the worn earth in a crystalline curtain. Wind played through the air, throwing my hair around my face. The note was on smooth, expensive parchment, carefully folded.

I unfolded it, scanning the massage quickly.

_Meet us at the well again at midnight. _

There was no signature under the elegantly slanted script. But then, signatures were dangerous. Chilling water clung to my hair and eyelashes as I mulled over the reasons for the sudden summons.

The rain kept pouring, causing the black ink to run, and obliterating the message.

_Meet us at the well again at midnight. _

Folding the wet and illegible note, I tucked it carefully into my pocket, walking to the barracks as if nothing happened.

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**I've been hinting at the chapters picking up, and the action beginning for chapters now. And it's actually about to become a reality. Call this a setup chapter. Not a great deal of action, but details that are important to remember. **

**The past question: **

**No, I do not see a path. This indicates several things, some which are applicable to al people, and some which are not. Not seeing a path can indicate a dislike of conformity, and an urge to forge your own way. It also indicates the individual's dislike of the concept of fate or destiny, rather, their wish to believe in free choice. On a lower, subconscious level, not seeing a path can indicate the individual's uncertainty of their future. It is not uncommon for younger people not to see a path, as this can indicate that though the individual wants to do something with their life, they are not entirely certain about how to fulfill these plans. **

**Yes, I do see a path. Seeing a path can indicate that the individual feels that they want to go somewhere with there life, and have a belief that they can accomplish this. While seeing a path does not indicate conformity or narrow-mindedness, people who envisage a path are more likely to believe, or at least seriously consider, the reality of destiny. A person who sees a path feels, on an unconscious level, that life will take them places, and they have a certainty and self-assuredness to believe they can achieve what life has to offer. Seeing a path is not as common in younger people, as it indicates a surer certainty of the future than many younger people possess. **

**New question: **

**Choose three scenarios out of these four:**

- A group of people taking photographs

- A galloping horse

- A house with a garden

- A statue of the goddess Venus 

**------------------- **

**As always, reviews and critiques are appreciated. I should be able to update again this weekend. **

**Lon-Dubh **


	12. Chapter 11: Crimson

**Hello, everyone. I told you I'd be able to update again this weekend… **

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Bella's POV:

The Cullens seemed to be split into two groups at the moment. Those who allowed the inner turmoil reflect into anxiousness on their faces. And those who allowed nothing they felt to be mirrored.

Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Alice, and Jasper. All with worried expressions, contrasting sharply with their unworldly beauty, like brooding angels.

Rosalie and Edward, however, let none of their emotions show. Both ethereally perfect faces were molded into masks of vague disinterest. We could have been discussing the possibility of rain the next day, for all they appeared concerned.

Angela and I stood slightly to the side, neither of us bothering to swathe our worry. I cast a furtive glance in her direction, brow furrowed. Her hair blended in with the roughly hewn walls of underground, tanned skin illuminated in the sputtering torchlight. A frown played around her lips, setting her commonly pretty expression into one of anxiety. Both our eyes met for a second, hers glistening in the flickering light.

"It is a worrisome situation," Carlisle continued, warm voice saturated with concern. "We had anticipated that the supposed "ghost" rumors would work to our advantage. Instead, they've spurred an outbreak of crime throughout the city. We lose time every day, and the Guard becomes wary." He paused, golden hair gleaming in the warm illumination. Casting a brief glance at Alice, small and dark in the shadows, he turned to address the rest of the gathering.

" Alice has compiled information that hints the Guard will be searching houses, and taking individual slaves for questioning. Anyone who doesn't cooperate will be considered to be hindering the Service. These new developments seriously pose a danger to our plans. Add that to the fact a contingent of the Guard is virtually owned by Dre Marsch, and we are not precisely allies…" Carlisle allowed his voice to dwindle off, golden eyes troubled.

Members glanced uneasily at their peers. Only Rosalie and Edward maintained the semblance of serene interest.

"Is anyone in more danger than others?" Jasper's voice seemed to be accompanied by a wave of calm. He glanced at Alice, leaning against the grainy wall in the gloom of the torches. There was an expression of intense, but oddly blank, concentration on her face. Instinctively, the rest of the members turned their attention to the small woman.

At last, her expression cleared. Eyes flashing, she shrugged. "Not in particular. But Isabella is in more danger than the rest of us. I wouldn't put it past Dre Marsch to have some kind of interrogation of his slaves. His plans are progressing, and he can't afford to make a mistake this late in the game."

I shivered slightly at Alice's ominous tone, chills running down my spine. Meeting her eyes levelly, I searched for even the slightest hint of doubt. But I knew, even before I found none, that I couldn't question her judgment.

"Is there anything I can do?" I managed to ask, my attention back on Carlisle.

Esme stood behind him, her soft face contorted painfully in concern. Carlisle spared a quick glance in his wife's direction, turning back to meet my eyes. "I don't know what we can do," he answered, a note of terrible resignation in his tone. "As much as I would like to simply remove you from the household, and the danger, your position is still essential." He grimaced, eyes filled with regret. "Information has been slow, lately. But we just can't run the risk. That is, at least, if you are still willing?"

The question held no edge of malice or disappointment, only concern. I met his gaze, eyes flickering briefly to the rest of the group.

Others, standing slightly in the background. Less remarkable than the Cullens, certainly. But all determined, all playing against the odds. Ben. Haley. Mallory. Britney. Thomas. Ann.

Esme, quiet, yet strong. Loving, compassionate.

Alice. Small, intense, but full of life.

Rosalie, for all I didn't know her. Jasper, Emmett. Edward.

His face finally betrayed the slightest flicker of disquiet, the slightest tightening of his jaw bone. Copper hair fell untidily over his forehead as usual, perfect lips pressed tightly together. His eyes met mine for a moment. There was something unearthly intense about his gaze.

I turned back to Carlisle. "Of course I am," I said, managing to keep my voice coolly even.

"You do realize you are in great deal of danger by doing this," he prodded, eyes reflecting fatherly concern.

I swallowed my throat abruptly dry. "Yes."

He sighed heavily, nodding. "Very well. I've decided we should attempt to meet face-to-face more often. It's risky, but I believe it's essential. We can't allow ourselves to be divided."

My gaze was unfocused as I contemplated Carlisle's words, hardly processing the fact that others were talking.

I was in more danger than ever before. What would I do when I was called to be interrogated? I wasn't exactly a proficient liar. What would happen if they suspected?

_But what else are you going to do?_ I argued with myself. _Live contentedly as a slave for the rest of your life? Silently suffering, only living because of a promise to a father long dead? _

I flinched at the cruel bluntness of my consciousness.

_What else do you have to live for? Hope? Equality? Love? You've lost those all, long ago. _

My eyes flickered unwillingly to Edward's dark form. What was it that I felt for him?

_It doesn't matter. _

I wrenched my attention back to other matters.

_What are the Cullens hiding? _

Surely, a much more pressing question…

"We'll adjourn until three days hence, then," Carlisle's ringing voice jerked me sharply back to the present. Sighing, I turned towards the well opening. Angela followed me, chewing her lower lip nervously. Casting an enquiring glance in her direction, she smiled tentatively.

"I'm staying in a different part of the city at the moment. It would look suspicious if I didn't come back. And the caverns don't go in that direction." She explained softly, eying the rope hanging limply from the well above apprehensively. I smiled back, meeting her kind eyes.

"Allow me," Edward's cool velveteen voice rang out alarmingly close behind me. I nodded mutely, not trusting my voice. Catching a glimpse of his shadowed face as he passed, he didn't meet my eyes, brushing lightly by me. I bit my lip, closing my eyes.

_Pay attention. _

The night was cold, but sharply clear, brought into an intense focus. The heavens seemed to be illuminated, stretching on into an eternity of haunting beauty. Crisp air tinged with the faint odor of salt met me as I emerged from the well.

Swinging my legs carefully over the edge, I sighed in relief. Edward's lips curved up slightly, a ghost of a chuckle escaping. I glared at him, meeting his amused expression with annoyance. The grin disappeared swiftly, his eyes solemn. But the hint of amusement glimmered in his eyes, betraying his true feelings.

Rolling my eyes, I began to follow Angela's retreating shadow into the gloom.

"Wait, Isabella," He murmured softly. Turning, I halted, surprised.

"Yes?"

He hesitated, his godlike face troubled. Closing the distance between us in a few graceful strides, he drew closer. My breath caught in my throat as Edward's golden, smoldering eyes met mine. Heart beating wildly, I glanced away as quickly as I could manage.

"What is it?" I prompted, hyperaware of our close proximity. Eyes flashing back to his, I followed his intense gaze.

The stars above us glittered gaily in the deep blue sky, somehow both portraying a fierce hope, and yet a haunting sadness. The moon was a slim silvery crescent, just crept past its zenith. There was something in the sky that sent an acute wave of pain washing through my body. Something about the night's dark splendor that reminded me sharply of one of my father's last nights.

"Isabella," Edward whispered, sweet breath washing over me. I turned my gaze back his face, now intently regarding my own. His eyes were so brightly intense, such a deep gold, they seemed to illuminate in the dreary darkness. I stopped breathing.

Edward lifted one pale hand, slowly, hesitantly, as if unsure of himself. Softly, as if I was made of delicate china, his icy hand brushed against my upturned face. The feather-light touch sent sparks through my body, causing my heart to beat erratically. I inhaled sharply, standing petrified.

Abruptly, Edward pulled away. Exhaling sharply, he turned away from me. The shadows seemed to creep onto his face, even his brilliantly pale skin darkened.

"Excuse me," He murmured softly, formally.

My reply caught in my throat. The air was chillingly cold, but the air seemed to be alive with some kind of palpable emotion. The silence stretched, and slowly, Edward turned back to face me.

"Isabella, I…" He allowed his silky voice to trail off into nothingness. Eyes burning, he studied my reaction. Reluctantly, a slight smile spread across his face.

"Isabella?" Angela's voice called out to me from the darkness. Jerking, I could just make out her form between the alley of shambled houses. I had completely forgotten about her presence.

Turning back to Edward, I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. He looked even more ethereally beautiful, illuminated in the glowing light. The still lingered slightly on his lips.

"Be safe," He breathed, eyes scorching.

And then he was gone.

Breath coming in short gasps, I shakily followed Angela, my mind reeling.

"Coming?" Angela smiled, voice soft. Mutely, I nodded. Walking slowly, we kept to the shadows.

"Do you want to talk about something?" Angela's voice was kind, but not prodding. Her eyes were earnest, hair gleaming softly in the moonlight.

I opened my mouth, hesitating. "I don't know," I finally managed to answer, sighing. "It's complicated."

"Things like this are always complicated."

Shrugging, I turned my attention to the ground in time to sidestep a loose stone. Shadows cast from the buildings darkened the recesses in which we skirted. A faint breeze carried stray strands of my brown hair across my face.

I turned to look at Angela. "Are we friends, do you think?" I asked.

Angela's forehead puckered. She stared at me, a slight smile coming to her lips. "Yes. We're friends."

_Why do I need that reassurance? Why do I hunger for a voice to say something like that? _

Turning back from Angela, we entered the main square. The trickling of water on the swan statue carried softly to us in the breeze, filling me with a vague sense of peace.

"Stop!" Angela yelled suddenly, voice startlingly loud. I turned to her in surprise, stepping into the moon bathed square.

Strong arms roughly seized me around the middle, yanking my feet from the ground.

A crimson cloak..

_No… _

All the blood drained from my face. We had been caught.

A shape barreled into my captor, scratching at him. He released me in surprise, taken aback that a woman had attacked him. More Guards, their red cloaks ghostly in the gloom, swarmed out from the alleyways.

Angela broke free of her assaulter, hair whipping wildly around her pale face. "Run!" She screamed again.

We both sprinted across the square. Neither knowing where we were going, where we would hide even if we managed to outrun our pursuers. Every dancing shadow seemed to be a monster, every slap of our feet against the cobblestones an urge for us to run faster.

But the sounds of our pursuers drew nearer. Their weapons clanked as they ran, sandals slapping against the stones. Gruff, authoritive voices rang at us to stop. I chanced a glance backwards.

They were close. Too close. Crimson cloaks swirling out behind them, weapons unsheathed and gleaming wickedly in the moonlight. Faces determined. Amused.

The cold night air seemed to turn to fire in my lungs. Seemed to seer my insides.

"Run!" Angela gasped again, a feral look in her typically gentle eyes.

But it was too late.

Hands grabbed me from behind, far too strong for me too resist. I kicked, screaming, out of breath. The skies were in a blur overhead, the air seemed to be saturated with menace.

A cry brought my attention from resisting my assaulter.

It was a cry I would never forget.

It was a wildly, mournful sound. But defiant, and releasing. Haunting, echoing.

Angela stood a few yards away, near the swan fountain. Moonlight caused her hair to shine softly. Her entire body appeared to be illuminated with some kind of inner strength.

_Crimson. _

A guard stood in front of her, sword drawn. Something brilliantly red clung to the metal.

"Angela!" I screamed hoarsely. But my voice didn't even seem to reach her.

Angela's arms were slightly outstretched, her mouth vaguely parted. A crimson flower bloomed around her midsection, staining her pastel colored tunic a brilliant ruby.

She took a step back, lips still parted.

And then she fell.

Hair cascading behind her, back gracefully arched. The moment seemed a lifetime.

"No!"

Her body hit the water limply, sending a sparkling of shining droplets into the air.

The stars seemed to weep.

"Angela! No!" I screamed, lashing out against my holder. It didn't make a difference. It was fighting the inevitable.

The shadows across the darkened square seemed to writhe, the move as if they were alive.

The fountain kept running. The water still trickling around the swan, graceful. About to take off into flight.

My lips were numb, my body in shock. Tears fell lightly down my cheeks. "Angela."

She lay there. Hair, darkened by the water, spread into a shining halo around her head. Face, eyes still open, lips still parted, deathly pale. Hands, extending to either side. The water clung to her clothing in iridescent droplets.

Her eyes were still open. Staring sightlessly at the swan about to take flight above her.

_Crimson. _

All around her.

She seemed both tragically defiant, yet awfully accepting. But graceful. So graceful.

The arms I had no strength to resist dragged me away. Fiery tears burned in my eyes.

That was the last time I saw Angela's still form. Guarded by a mournful swan, even in uncomprehending death.

The last thing I saw before I was dragged into the darkness was the fountain. The water running ruby.

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**I did tell you I'd update. Too bad I'm evil. **

**--------------------------------- **

This test is actually about the causes of recent stress and the vital scenario is the one you left out.

If you left out the one with the

- Group of people taking pictures:

This means that you're very tired with your relationships right now

- Galloping horse:

This means that you are tired and stressed over work recently.

- House with the garden

This means that you are tired with some matters concerning your family or household lately

- Statue of Venus

**_I didn't know about that one. Oh, well…. _**

**------------------------------------- **

**I looked at a survey the other day, and it said that 88 of the American population does not know the lowest point, and the highest point in the United States is. And I can't decide whether that's pathetic or not… No, nevermind, it's definitely pathetic. But those stats didn't include teenagers, which is what most of my "audience" is. So instead of a psyche question, I'm asking that question. See if teenagers are smarter than the adults. (And don't go and cheat by using Google.) **

**------------------------------------- **

**I'll try to update as soon as I can, probably within the next two to three days. Questions, comments, critiques, as always are appreciated. **

**Until then, **

_**Lon-Dubh**_


	13. Chapter 12: Cold Confessions

**I'm very sorry about the long delay. My computer caught a virus and completely crashed, bringing down a few of my school files with it. It took almost a week to fix, and then I had all my school work I'd lost to make up… Luckily I didn't lose any of my fanfiction files, at least. **

**We're finally reaching the climax of the story. But, as a warning, the climax, not necessarily this chapter, but later on, might get a little graphic. Nothing horrible, though. I'll warn you if I think it's necessary. **

**--------------------------------------------**

Bella's POV:

The icy cold of the hard cell around me wasn't even comparative to the chill I felt within my soul. Moonlight arched dimly in through a barred window, far above my head. But the silver bath of light seemed no longer beautiful. It was a stranger. A cold, distant presence that constantly touched, and constantly chilled.

I didn't see the steely gray stones, lichen clinging to the masonry around me. I didn't see the rusted iron bars, both on the door and the high, slitted window, effectively caging me in. I couldn't even hear the low moans of the other imprisoned in cells around me, their cries echoing down the deserted corridor of the dungeon.

All I could see was the swan.

Beautiful, carved marble. Wings outstretched, graceful neck arched. Shining drops of water, splashing from the fountain, clinging to its smooth exterior. Bathed in the chilled glow of moonlight, surrounded by a palpable darkness.

But all I could remember was the water running red.

Bathing that mournfully graceful statue in rose.

I could just see the ruby still leaking into the water, a slow proclamation of the life lost. Crimson.

_Angela. _

I hadn't known her well. But I'd seen her die, right in front of me. Seen the shocked, vaguely unaccepting look in her eyes. Seen her hair, gently rippling with the water, spread out like a halo around her head. Lips slightly parted, skin pale, staring uncomprehendingly into the face of death.

It could have been me. It could have so easily been me, lying in that pool of water and sanguine. It could have been my arms outstretched, my hair floating serenely in the rose hued water. It could have so easily been I, who felt the cold touch of steel, then the warm seeping of my own blood. Would have I been as surprised? Would have I felt myself falling, not comprehending what had occurred until it was far too late?

_It could have been me. _

No one expected this to happen, no one anticipated. We had always been so safe, before. But now that opaque, if tenuous, cloak of stability had shattered, leaving only the devastated pieces in its stead.

_Did the Cullens know, or realize? Or had the Guard managed to drag away Angela's lifeless body before anything was noticed to be amiss? _

Did anyone even realize that I was imprisoned in the infamous dungeon of the city, crouched in an icy cell, the cries of the tormented ringing around me as I awaited my fate?

_What is my fate? _

How long could I stay in the small room, seeing the girl I barely knew die over and over again in before my eyes? How long before I submitted to the cold, to the pain?

_How long before I die? _

And what would dying feel like? What is it that Angela had experienced? Was a gentle release, as I would like to believe, or a cold awakening? Was it how I had heard old romantics and bards portray it, as a wild enlightening, or was it just a bitter end?

_Do you really want to find out? _

_No. I promised. I promised my father, and myself. I won't let go. Ever. _

I closed my tortured eyes, praying in vain that I would gaze upon the lifeless face of Angela. Praying that I would not share the same fate.

How cruel. How cold and cruel the world is to take her away from it. She deserved better.

_But maybe,_ a small voice in the back of my head began; _she's the most fortunate of you all. No more fighting the inevitable. No more lies, no more pain. Because the concerns of the living are not those of the dead. She's beyond all the lies, all the treachery. And maybe, maybe she's better off. _

_Or maybe you just want to believe that. _

I don't know how long I lay there, in the cold darkness. Eventually, the rays of new sunlight reached me, illuminating the cell in a warm blanket. The hours passed. Smoothly and ephemerally as silk floating in a calm breeze. The sun rose to a flaming zenith. And I was still lying there, numb in a way no worldly thing could warm, as I watched the shadows arch in a golden, orange glow. I still lie there, cold beyond the reach of any external force, as I dispassionately watched the cell where I lifelessly rested being bathed in the cold light of the moon once again.

The air held a palpable chill; the muck-coated floor was covered with a layer of old straw, unpleasantly sharp. The place smelled dank and stale, and I could make out the distant sound of water dripping between the roughly hewn crevices of the rock. My hair hung down my back in a knotted heap, strands falling limply over my seemingly serene semblance.

The hint of breathe drew shudders out of my limp form, and I curled into a weak ball on the hard ground. My throat ached from lack of water, a sharp reminder of my sojourn on the slaver's ship. My limbs, curled around myself in a halfhearted attempt to keep warm, felt peculiarly weak and shaky from the lack of food.

_How long? _

_How long? _

My thoughts echoed endlessly in my head, an unsorted jumble. I breathed in the dankly stale air with the rhythm of the dripping water.

Splat.

_Inhale. _

Patter.

_Exhale. _

Splat.

Patter.

Patter.

_Breathe. _

Patte—

"Thump!" The harsh jangling on the rusted iron door brought me sharply from my removed, serene world to the gloomy dungeon. I heard the harsh jingling of keys as they were inserted into the lock, accompanied by the guttural curse of the Guard as the door stuck.

"Wham!" The iron bars collided with the molding stone walls, sending harsh echoes down the hallways. Weakly, I lifted my head from the cold ground, stray strands of hair and dried tears clinging to my pale cheeks.

Mailed boots stood before me, the hem of a crimson cloak just within my sight. Exhaling sharply, I looked up further. Fully clad in armor, sword glinting from its sheath on his belt, the Guard stood above me disdainfully. A spiraling insignia shone in the silvery light, denoting him as a Captain. His face would have been handsome, but was contorted with a grimacing sneer. I felt my breath catch in my throat.

"Bring her," he ordered, his voice curtly bored.

Two other men appeared from behind him, clad in a similar fashion. I didn't have the strength or will to resist as I watched the men stoop, felt their hands dragging me to my feet. They exited the cell with cold, precise steps, dragging me as if I was no more than a purchase of food from the markets.

The sounds of our passage echoed along the corridors. My head fell limply on my chest as I felt myself born along, weak from lack of food and fatigue. Flickering torches illuminated the way in a light that seemed like that of three suns after my long stay in the gloom.

"We have her," the captain finally proclaimed in his peculiarly flat voice. Lifting my head slightly, I realized we had entered another cell, this one considerably larger, having several door leading to other rooms.

Several silhouettes stood in the room, all appearing to be men. Two stood grouped closely together, one stood aloofly nearer to a door.

"Excellent," I couldn't tell who said it.

Abruptly, the hands gripping me released, sending my falling to the cold floor in a shaking heap. I stirred slightly, falling back when I realized I just didn't have the strength, not even to get to my feet.

"I appreciate your cooperation on this matter, High Chancellor," The voice was one I recognized. Breath catching in my throat, I looked up to see Dre Marsch emerge from the shadows. Dressed as opulently as usual, his aristocratic features were set in one of a disdainful mask. There was a slight cough, and another man, small and corpulent, came to stand near the Dre.

"Of course, Dre Marsch. It was… the least I could do." His voice was irritatingly nasally, his eyes beady as he gazed upon me as if I was no more than a hearth rug. And to him, I probably wasn't. "_The least he could do_," was more than likely inspired by a substantial bribe.

"And I trust you'll keep this matter quiet?" Dre Marsch's commanding voice was more of a statement than a request to the Chancellor.

"Yes—yes of course," the chancellor stuttered. He paused, quick eyes assessing Dre Marsch's reaction. "We would—appreciate it if we could question the…_witness_. Of course, if you don't have any further use for her…" He added hastily.

I looked up, meeting Dre Marsch's peculiarly intense eyes. They held no trace of compassion, no hint of pity. Only a deep-seated anger, and a cold dispassion.

"I have no use for slaves who betray their masters." He stated coldly, holding eye contact.

"Ex- excellent, your Grace. Allow my attendant to guide you out." The Chancellor snapped a hand, and the third shadow emerged from the dimness with a courtly bow.

"If you will, your Grace?" His voice was controlled, polite. Someone who'd had years of experience at the game he played.

Without another word, the faceless man and my former owner swept out of the room, the door shutting behind them with an ominous thunk.

Immediately, the Chancellor straightened, eyes gleaming. He chuckled slightly, walking towards the door. "You have no idea what you've done, silly girl," he spat, beady eyes sparkling in a sinister light. All together a different man as soon as Dre Marsch had disappeared. "Dre Marsch thinks_ he's _playing _me_," he continued, nasally voice more powerful. "But I'm not the one being played. Your going to wish you were never born."

He snapped his fingers once again, and immediately the Captain and the other two Guards followed him out the same exit the Dre had used.

I stared as the closed door for a long time, before finally moving into the corner of the room, dragging myself inch by painstaking inch.

_What did he mean? _

I had no way to keep track of time in the windowless room, though I didn't believe it to be too long of a time before the door opened, hurtling another body into the room.

Landing in a heap, the form dragged herself to her feet, muttering angrily. I gasped in surprise once the flickering torchlight illuminated the silhouette's face.

"Ebba?" I managed to gasp, eyes wide with surprise.

Her beady eyes snapped immediately to mine. "Yes," she replied curtly, walking slowly towards me before lowering herself gracelessly to the floor.

"What, what are you-"

"What am I doing here? She finished, voice as sharp as a dagger. Turning to glare at me, she made an impressive figure, even half crumpled on the ground, the torchlight illuminating the fierce creases in her face. "It's _your _fault, girl."

I slumped as I realized what she meant. My rather dubious actions probably prompted her imprisonment. I would have felt more guilty, had I not been completely thunderstruck at her not attacking me on sight.

Silence fell over the room. I couldn't help but glance at the old Gorman woman every once in a while, half alarmed and surprised by her presence, and lack of recrimination.

_Silence. _

"Everyone always thought I was so horrible," she whispered. I jerked my head towards her, weakly eyeing her dark figure. The room seemed to grow colder by the minute, my breath came in short gasps from my burning throat. The roughly hewn stones seemed to suck all of the light into them, casting long shadows around the bare room.

"Everyone," she continued, voice softer than I had ever heard it. She seemed to have visibly shrunken form her once impressive stature, seemed to have lost the fiery spark for conflict that had once so obviously been in her possession.

"But I only did it because I was afraid. I wasn't much older than you, you know, when I was captured. My family died. At the time, I wished I had died too." Her voice was a hoarse whisper. I lay, thunderstruck by her sudden admission. Where was the ornery, snappish woman I had come to know?

"I was so afraid, so I took it out on everyone else. You were such an easy target. I looked so strong, so untouchable. And that's what I wanted to seem like. But really, I was always a greater coward than any." She scrutinized me sharply. "At least _I_ got a chance to live my life."

"Do-" I tried to clear my cracking throat in vain. My voice was even weaker than the defeated woman sitting near me. "Do you know if they'll kill us?"

Her gray head nodded, strands falling out of the severe braid. "I knew what you were doing," she replied, looking away. Wrinkled fingers distractedly brushed along the hem of her fraying russet tunic. "But I never told. I liked to think I would have done the same, in your place." Ebba turned her wrinkled face back to my own, expression tortured. "At least I wasn't that great a coward," she muttered, shifting into a more comfortable position.

Meeting my eyes squarely, she scrutinized my reaction intently. "You were dead the moment the Guard caught up with you," she whispered, hoarse voice seeming like that of an ancient Oracle.

My mouth was dry as I contemplated my fate. With a certainty, in knew the Gorman woman was correct. I wouldn't escape from this darkness unscathed. I wouldn't escape at all.

"And no one will ever know," she chuckled, just a hint of hysteria in her tone. "that I was never the monster I acted like."

I made an effort at a weak smile, trying to lighten her deathly mood. "People will be afraid to walk by your grave for years."

Ebba chuckled slightly, though the mirth didn't fully reach her eyes. "There's that," she agreed.

Seemingly done talking, she turned away from me. I stared, contemplating her stooped back for a long time.

_Nothing is as it seems. _

_Nothing. _

The phrase echoed throughout my mind. I tried to summon courage in facing my inevitable fate. I tried to feel brave. I would have settled for feeling anything.

All I felt was cold. Cold and numb.

So I didn't resist when they came for me. When I saw their dispassionate faces. I didn't say a word as they dragged me to the doors. Merely a glance backwards. One last glimpse of a once fierce woman who lay defeated on the floor of a dungeon cell. No one would ever know her story.

_No one will ever know mine. _

_Maybe not even the Cullens. Not Emmett, or Alice. Not even Edward. _

_I wasn't ready to die. _

But I didn't struggle as the door of another dark room slammed behind me.

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**Hows that for a cliffhanger? **

**I got a lot of reviews last chapter. Nothing stirs up some emotions like a death. Funnily enough. **

**Once again, I'm sorry for the delay, but I have good news. This coming week is my Fall Break, so I should be able to update a lot. Also, my volleyball season is ending, so I won't have to deal with three hour practices every day. **

**There are a lot of updates on the horizon. **

**Not many of you got my last question right. (sighs) The lowest point is Death Valley, California. Quite a few of you got that. But not many go the highest point. It's Mount McKinley. And guess what. Denali, Alaska, is the town on the bottom slopes of mount McKinley. I hope you all recognize the name, Denali at least. So yes, that means Tanya and her coven are living near the highest point in the U.S. **

**I don't have enough time to ask a psyche question, I'm about to leave for the night. **

**I'll update soon. **

**Reviews are always appreciated. **

**------------------**

**_Lon-Dubh _**


	14. Chapter 13: The Great Escape

**This is an interesting chapter. More of a set-up. More pieces falling into place. But more unanswered questions, of course. **

**Thank you to my beta, lizbre, for being able to revise so quickly. **

**Enjoy. **

**------------------------------- **

**Bella's POV: **

We all know what pain feels like. The pain of falling, bruising yourself. The sting of slamming a finger in a door. Maybe worse. Maybe we know what it feels like to _really_ be hurt.

And then there's the mental pain. The emotional injury. The kind that leaves ashes in your mouth, and ice in your heart. We all have heard it portrayed a thousand times. But you don't really know. Not until you're the one dying.

And that was what I was doing.

Dying, I mean.

I hadn't been ready to let go. I still had the fire, the burning desire to carry on. And it was still there. But buried deeply. And with every passing minute, that dwindling flame striving to survive flickered.

How long would it take to go out?

_Would I feel it? _

I felt my breath drag out between my dry, partially cracked lips. My throat and lungs were on fire, a slow, smoldering burn. I could vaguely feel the cold, cracked stones beneath my cheek. Through partially slitted eyes, the barest lancing of sunlight arched into the dark room. But the shadows were lengthening with each moment. I could feel my life fade along with the slowly sinking sun. Gently, but surely. Bringing on the chilled cloak of night.

_But was night so cold a thing, after all? _

A small cough escaped my throat, the movement of my body sending sharp lances of pain through my body. I felt a cold tear slide town my contorted cheek, landing with the softest whisper of a noise on the roughly hewn ground. The torn fabric of my tunic scraped over the open sores on my back, sending a jolt of pain through my body. All my muscles were sore. It felt as if my skin had been scraped clean off in some places. My throat was inflamed from the constant screams that had torn from my lips. Those screams that had been emitted from my own lips still echoed in my mind. Worst of all though, was the warm, sticky blood.

I felt it sliding down the back of my neck, mingling with the matted hair strewn with twigs and gravel. I felt the warm lightness gently caressing my back as it slipped from the weeping sores there. Even over my legs, my arms. It was drying, causing my skin to become unpleasantly stiff. There was a time in which my current state of hygienic deficiency would have been driving me insane.

But at the moment, I couldn't really care.

My muddled thoughts eventually turned to Ebba. I hadn't seen her since I had been dragged away. I wondered idly if she had met the same fate.

More tears dropped from my burning eyes as I thought of her.

_Was she dead? _

Maybe it would be better if she was gone. She wouldn't be suffering from the same pain inflicted by torture. Literally. She wouldn't be curled up in the cold darkness, cramped, waiting to die.

The ghost of a smile flickered over my lips, causing me to wince in pain.

I had never imagined anything like this. Not in my wildest dreams. Or, really, my darkest nightmares. In a way, I almost felt as if this whole thing was a nightmare. That in a few moments, my father would wake me, smiles crinkling over his forehead. Then we would both laugh at my foolishness.

_If only. _

I wished, almost more than anything, that this whole thing was a twisted dream. I knew I was chasing air. Trying to capture smoke with my bare hands. But the smaller, childish part of me yearned for the childish naivety that would allow me to dismiss the world. Cliché.

_Life is but a dream. _

_Life is but a… _

_Dream… _

The haunting tune of the lullaby came back to me. Dad had told me, once so long ago, it was an old song. The childish melody had survived the war, the famine, which had torn the world apart. So funny how something so simply as a child's tune could reach further into time than anything else.

_Row, row, row your boat… _

_Gently down the stream… _

_Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily… _

_Life is but a dream… _

What if life was but a dream? What if nothing, which we so clung to as reality, was true? What if we were but fleeting shadows in a world that was made of real things? What if we were the unnoticed, the imagined?

But who would imagine this? This nightmare?

"Isabella…" The whispered voice was soft, gentle. So smooth, the sound of silk.

I exhaled, breath gently filtering into the air. My eyes were open but my vision was blurred. I couldn't see. It was all fading away. But maybe that was the point. Maybe I was almost dead after all.

"Please, Isabella."

I smiled. The voice of an angel.

_I don't want to die. _

_Don't want to… _

"Please don't die."

_Maybe I did though. _

_It was all so confusing… _

"You're going to be alright. Don't be scared, it's almost over."

Closer to over than I could have imagined.

Something cold and hard slipped around me. I gasped in pain, whatever it was, was brushing against the lash marks that covered my back. It hurt, awfully.

"Shhh, it's alright." The voice hushed me softly, as if it was speaking to a small child.

"It…. hurts…." My whimper was so soft it was almost inaudible to me. But the angel heard it.

"I know, I know. It's alright." The voice was just a glib, just a cherubic, but held the bitter edge of hatred. An oxymoron. Hateful angel. I almost smiled at the thought.

"Just a little while longer…"

_Just a little while longer… _

_Just a little while— _

-----------------------------------------------------

**High Chancellor's POV: **

Everything was going flawlessly according to plan. I had the prisoners, would get as much information out of them I needed, and then it would be I who would rise to the top of the political ladder. Not Dre Marsch and his simpering associates, thinking they were so clever.

The trick was subtlety.

They wouldn't realize who they were dealing with until it was too late.

Unfortunately, these things took time. And I was not a patient man.

Leaning back in the plush, embroidered chair, I inspected the pile of documents before me with satisfaction. A few arrests, more information slowly leaking into the ears of my intelligence agents… Yes, everything was fitting into place quite nicely.

I studied the room with a contented sigh. The rough walls were hidden behind thick, tastefully colored tapestries, the floor blanketed in a soft rug. The furniture, oak wood gleaming from its perfect polish, decorated with elaborately curved designs. The product of years of work. And years of appearing an incompetent moron in order for no one to challenge me. There was nothing worse than an ambitious nobleman that actually had the brains to back him up. That man, who so foolishly revealed his cleverness to the other human vipers, was a sure target to be eliminated. Swiftly.

It grated at my pride, certainly, that I had to play the part of an imbecile. That I had to simper in front of morons like Dre Marsch and pretend I was cowed. They had no idea who they were dealing with.

And Dre Marsch, as well as anyone foolish enough to get in my way, would never know anything ever again.

A light knock at the door brought my attention sharply back to the present. "Come in," I called, idly twirling a quill between my fingers.

The captain of the Guard entered. Really, it was _my_ Guard. They were supposed to serve the city and government, but I had more than half of them in my pocket. Three times as many as Dre Marsch had. And four times as many as he suspected I had. There really were uses to pretending incompetence.

"My lord," he bowed, crimson cloak swirling around the highly polished amour he wore.

"Ahh, Captain Riem. What news?"

He straightened, dark eyes flickering away from mine nervously. The foreshadowing hint of what news was to come immediately managed to deflate my formerly buoyant mood.

"My lord, -- we've had a problem with getting information out of one of the prisoners."

"Which one?" My voice was cool, deceptively calm. Captain Riem suppressed a shiver at the tone.

"The younger one, sir. She wouldn't talk. Even after the usual treatment. I was thinking…is it possible she knows nothing?"

"I don't pay you to think, Captain," I sneered, fully irate. "And the chances that she knows nothing about the very subtle conspiracy are unlikely."

I cursed under my breath, frustrated. The conspiracy had been going on for a while now. Freeing slaves. Disappearances of important documents. Public vandalism. Other subtle signs that, were I a less intelligent man, I might ignore. But they were all the symbols of a starting revolution. And I didn't intend to let it happen.

The only problem was, I had no idea who was behind any of it.

"Let me see her," I ordered tersely, slowly rising from my comfortable seat. The Captain looked visibly relieved that I hadn't taken the prisoner's unaccountable silence out on him.

_Not yet,_ I corrected myself with a mental sneer. But I certainly don't reward incompetence.

The hallways to the dungeons were cold and drafty as usual. I, on a common basis, avoided the dungeons themselves. I only deal with what information I could get from the inmates.

The sound of our feet echoed through the spiraling stairs, along the dimly lit hallways. Crevices where the mortar had worn away revealed rats' nests and spider webs. Sickly green mold was beginning to cover the once gray stones. I wrinkled my nose in distaste. It was below me.

"This cell," the Captain announced after a moment, rising aloft a flaming torch. Fumbling with his belt, he produced a ring of keys, and with a trembling hand, tried to fit one into the cell's lock. I bit my tongue, forcing myself not to push past him and do the job myself.

At last, the rusting door swung open with a loud creak, sending goose bumps up my arms. Not flinching, I pushed rudely past the captain.

It was empty.

The straw that covered the floor was rumpled, and the place where she lay was clearly visible. Fresh blood was evident, clinging to the straw and floor.

My sharp eyes scanned the gloom.

It really was empty.

Jerking my head upwards, I glanced at the slitted window, more than eight feet above. The bars were slightly crooked. But they could have been like that before.

"_What_," I hissed, turning back to the now visibly quaking Captain, "Is the meaning of this?"

"My- my lord. She was w- was here."

"She's not anymore, is she?" I snarled, scanning the room once again. "Were you able to get any information out of her?"

"N-n-no."

I ran a hand through my balding head. A catastrophe. A sheer disaster.

That girl had been involved in that conspiracy. I had been sure of it. But now, I was left with no information, and only a querulous old woman who didn't know barely anything. Ebba, I think her name was. She was irrelevant, anymore.

I had been so close. If I could just have found out who was behind it, the whole operation would have unraveled. _But no…_

I turned on the Captain, nostrils flared. "Give me your keys," I snapped, "and check the cell again."

Anxious to do my bidding, the young man quickly complied. "Were those bars like that before?" I asked, inspecting them again.

The Captain glanced in the direction of my scrutiny. "N-no, my lord. They weren't," he replied, a clearly puzzled tone.

I ground my teeth together. How had they done it?

_True, the window was probably the way out. But that window had a fifty foot, sheer drop below it. No roofs or convenient handholds. And even if a person had managed to get up to the window, those bars had been solidly wielded to the stone. There was no way any human man could have simply ripped them apart. _

_And the damn person even put them back into place once he was done. _

_Even if a person had managed, against all odds, to get that far, there was still a major problem. They would have been encumbered with a bleeding, dying girl. How in the name of hell had they managed it? _

This required some attention, certainly. I would be keeping my eyes and ears open, even more than usual, for any odd activity. Any clues. Any, even vague hints, I would follow up on. Because I would quash whatever was going on, once and for all. I could not have it stand in my way once I was ready to take power.

_No one, and nothing, would be safe anymore. _

A frown still etched firmly onto my face, I stepped briskly out of the cell. Swiftly, I slammed the rusting iron door shut behind me, inserting the key. It locked with a satisfying metallic click, stopped into place.

"High Chancellor?" The Captain looked at me, horrified, from the other side of the bars. Let this be his punishment for his incompetence. "My lord! _Please_!" He rattled the door wildly, but to no avail.

_See if** he** can make a miraculous escape. _

I turned, walking down the gloomy hallway, not sparing a glance back. The rattling of iron and dismayed cries of the terrified Guard followed me, until they faded in the distance.

_Nothing is safe from me. Not anymore. _

_And I will have vengeance. _

-------------------------

**So a character that didn't seem important now turns out to be one of the villains. Interesting, isn't it? I'd love to claim I had everything ingenuously planned out. But I'd be lying. The though occurred to me when I was halfway through this chapter. **

**Aren't I reassuring? **

**Well, the story's getting places. You'd honestly be one of the dimmest stars in the sky if you didn't realize where Bella went. But the consequences of the rescue are what is the concerning part. **

**I should be able to update again within the next two days. **

**--------------------------------------- **

**Lon-Dubh **


	15. Chapter 14: On My Own

**GGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**Comcast, my internet provider, has been having some problems. There was a snowstorm lately, and in the confusion, someone hit a buried power line. It put down service for the area, and they've been trying to repair it. But the backup power surge after the cutoff caused some kind of glitch in their system. This chapter's actually been completed for more than half a week. I just haven't been able to access the internet. More than a little frustrating. **

**(Sighs resignedly) But something always has to get in the way, right? Well, here's the next chapter. Enjoy.**

**------------------------------**

It was comfortably warm. Soft. The homey luxury I had become so estranged with in the past months. It had almost been an entire year since my once serene world had been shattered. Like spun glass, so easily. That was the nature of happiness, it seemed. More beautiful than anything, more precious. But no matter what effort you put into it, no matter how much you wished for it to remain the same, no matter hard and long you held, it also shattered in the end.

_There's a pessimistic attitude._

_Maybe it's not pessimistic. Maybe it's realistic. _

It was strange, though. In a way, it seemed like it had been no time at all. That surely it was only yesterday that my father had awoken me, gently reprimanding for not rising to do my chores. But I would be able to see it in his eyes, that he really wasn't at all angry.

And yet, in other ways, that era was a lifetime away. And with an unutterable certainty, I knew that my destiny would never lie in those same harmonious fells. Maybe, if I let myself hope, I could see a vague light shining from the blackness. I could just make out the dimmest rays that were enough to illuminate my whole world on the other side. Perhaps happiness could come to me. But it would never be that same, lazy serenity I had known as a child.

_And I'll never be the same either._

It was strange, how these realizations came when I couldn't even fully think coherently. I didn't know where I was. Maybe I had died after all. In the arms of an angel. Isn't that what everyone wanted? If they were to die at all.

The air around me was warmed, touched with the lightest scent of spices. Ginger, cinnamon, vanilla. And others I didn't recognize. All just traces in the air, weaving in and through each other like an exotically spun blanket, strung with all hues of the rainbow.

I felt myself shift slightly, unwilling to open my eyes. The surface beneath me was supple, so soft it seemed to mold to my weary body.

Where had all the pain gone?

This suddenly lucid thought jarred me closer to consciousness. The memory of what had occurred returned to me slowly, like rainwater dripping yieldingly into a bucket.

The jumbled puzzle slowly fit itself together in my sluggish mind, pieces painstakingly slow. But the gruesome overview was all too soon clear, and I wished wistfully I had let myself float in the serene sublime of wherever I was.

Which still didn't answer the question of whether I was dead or not…

But eyes snapped open abruptly. Light flooded painfully into my vision, causing me to wince slightly, turning away from the sudden brightness. Blinking owlishly, I allowed my vision gradually adjust.

It was a small room. The ceiling and walls were made of a light wood, of low quality but skillfully constructed. Some kind of thick, honey hued carpet blanketed the floor, and the walls were completely bare.

_What happened? _

"I'm glad you're up," In my confused concentration, the soft squeal of the door swinging open didn't register. Spinning my head, I visibly relaxed as I recognized Alice's slim figure silhouetted in the threshold. Moving into the light, I grinned, flabbergasted, at her casual smile. Plopping down inelegantly, but still managing to be graceful, on the soft bed, she met my eyes. The smallest flicker of melancholy unrest shone slightly through her cheerful semblance.

Frowning abruptly, I opened my mouth. "What happened?"

Alice's golden eyes closed for a moment, as if to mask the sadness dwelling there. When she turned back to scrutinize me, no emotion showed on her thin face whatsoever. If anything, there was a poignant acceptance. "We rescued you," she stated simply.

I stared blankly. "_How_? The walls are a vertical drop. I must have been up fifty feet."

Alice shifted slightly in the face of my relentless interrogation, obviously at ill ease.

_She's hiding something. _

The awareness drifted into my mind like the whisper of bitter cold wind in autumn. Narrowing my eyes, I studied her masked expression. What was going on?

"It was… difficult. But we have a considerable amount of resources at our disposal." She didn't meet my intense gaze.

That was the best answer I was going to get. For the time being, at least.

"Fine," I huffed dissatisfied. "If you aren't going to tell me the truth, you might as well tell me something else. Where am I?" Alice looked up sharply to meet my gaze, and unidentifiable emotion in her eyes.

"You're in a safe house," she finally replied, the lightest note of amusement creeping into her commonly light tone. "It's in the poorer part of the city. It was too risky to bring you to the mansion."

I frowned, struggling to sit. Gasping at the sudden lance of pain it sent through my back and midsection, Alice's small hand shot out to push me back. Glaring playfully, she shoved me gently back into a horizontal position.

"You need to rest. Doctor's orders," she winked, curling her legs underneath her.

"Carlisle?" I guessed, idly fingering the finely woven blanket.

Alice laughed softly; bell chimes in a gentle breeze. The barest hint of anger in the carefree sound startled me. "Yes, Carlisle fixed you up. You should be fine in a few weeks if you don't injure yourself again." She shot me a dark look, continuing. "And if you _rest_."

I weakly held up my hands in submission, laughing slightly. The effort made me wheeze. The sudden thought of the tragic events that had unfolded before my eyes banished the light euphoria of happiness in an instant. "Angela?" I asked, my voice soft.

Alice closed her eyes, as she was weeping, though she didn't shed a tear. Her smooth, pale face seemed chiseled out of ice, frozen in a vague mask of grief. Her grave silence spoke for itself. Biting my lip, I closed my eyes in sorrow.

_I knew she was dead. I saw her fall. Why is it such a shock, now that I learn she's gone?_

_Because you always hoped_, the vague murmur of an intuitive voice whispered in your mind_. You always felt that the Cullens had something up their sleeves. You always had the vague wish that she was rescued, snatched away from the very claws of death itself. But not even the Cullens can reverse death. Some things can't be changed. _

"It's funny," I managed to say, finally opening my eyes. I realized in shock that warm tears slid down my face, drops from a fallen star. My tone was distant, strange, even to my own ears. "I always knew that what I was doing, what we're doing, was dangerous. But I… I was at the point where I had nothing left to lose. It made the whole thing seem like a game, and--"

"Until now, you didn't really know the risks." Alice finished, amber eyes scorching. She sighed, opening her mouth as if to say more. But in the end, she remained silent.

"I didn't even know her well," I chuckled, a bitter, mirthless sound. "But she died right there… right in from of me. I saw her fall," I finished, shaking my head weakly. "I saw her bleeding… there was so much blood Alice. It colored the whole fountain red."

"The Guard scrubbed off the fountain, bleached the stones. So no one would realize what happened. So no one would know how scared they really are, how willing to take life. It would be bad for them, if the population knew how expendable they were in the hands of the Nobles."

"What--" I cleared my throat, bothered by its constrictive dryness. "What happened to her body?"

Alice's eyes flashed dangerously, the barest hint of a side she had never unveiled to me. Her upper lip curled slightly, as if in a silent snarl. It took all my self-control not to recoil from my friend. The deep, only slightly shown look of menacing hatred altered her usually delicate, pixie-like look completely. She was something different in that moment. Something breathtaking. Something dangerous. And then the glimpse was gone, her pale features were composed into a serene façade. "We stole her body. You could have called it grave robbing," a brief, forced smile crossed Alice's smooth lips, "but we didn't get her from the ground." The smile was gone, a bitter twist replacing it. "They didn't even bother to bury her. They just threw her body off the wharves. Into the ocean. No blood, no shovels. No trouble. How convenient."

My hands clenched slightly at Alice's calm, matter-of-fact statement. I wasn't a violent person, not usually. But at the moment, I wanted more than anything hit something. Not something. That wouldn't satisfy the sudden, brutal twisting of my stomach that seemed to constrict my insides and set them on fire. _Someone_.

I struggled to sit, oblivious to Alice's protests. My sudden, and drastically violent thoughts startled me. Even through this whole difficult period, this whole era of pain and blood, I had never felt this way. Even when my father had died, and I had watched the blood slowly seep out of his body, the light gradually leave his commonly smiling eyes. I had just felt empty, hollow. Like a shell of a person. But this death, of a girl, of a stranger that I barely knew, made me feel I was out for blood.

"Well…" Alice's voice was slightly uncertain, she eyes me speculatively. "Carlisle will be by later to check on you." She continued, her voice less shaken. "This is just a small house, in the poor quarter of the city. Not so far from the well we met at a few times, actually. I'll show you around later. We're still coming up with plans, how you can help again. We obviously can't use you as a spy in a household. We can't even really have you go onto the streets…"

I furrowed my brow, gazing at her faraway stare blankly. She caught the look, shrugging, "They put up wanted posters." She explained, as if she were remarking on the weather.

"Wanted posters. No big deal, I mean, it's just a _minor_ inconvenience…" My flippant statement didn't entirely mask the flicker of panic I felt.

"Relax, Isabella. The posters aren't very accurate, just a description. It could fit a hundred people in the city." Her expression darkened, "Besides, in the unlikely case that they manage to find you, we've become very good at hiding things, and people, we don't want discovered. You'll be fine." She added reassuringly.

"Isabella… when you were in prison, did they… did they manage to get you to say anything?" Her voice was soft, slightly apologetic, as if guilty for asking the question.

I smiled sourly, expecting the question. "No," I answered honestly, blinking away tears.

"I'm… I'm sorry for asking. I should have known you wouldn't..." her voice dwindled of, her eyes earnestly apologizing.

"That's alright, Alice. I would have asked the same question." Alice's lips quirked upward, her face clearing.

"There'll always be someone here, until you recover." Alice continued. "We'll just rotate. Edward in particular wanted to speak with you, but I convinced him I got to talk to the injured person first." Her voice was teasing, and I wondered idly just what she had said to her adopted brother to get him to stand down. Even the sound of his name made me feel warm, made my fingertips tingle slightly. Chastising myself, I smiled when I realized what the other edge of Alice's statement.

_She knows something is going on,_ I decided, glancing at her. _But she's happy about it. _

Chewing my lower lip, I forced myself not to dwell on idealistic dreams I wasn't at all sure contained much truth.

One of her earlier statement occurred to me, and I winced.

My stomach flipped. Even if I ignored the fact I was a wanted woman, it brought up the question of what I would do. I wasn't useful anymore. What else could I do?

Alice seemed to read my uncertainty. "Isabella, there's always something that needs to be done. Calm down, or Carlisle will come after me for distressing a patient." I smiled gratefully at her forced attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

"You should probably rest," Alice said, glancing guiltily out the dying rays coming from the window. I smiled ruefully, settling back onto the soft bed. Closing my eyes, I was to sleep within moments.

---------------------------

The next day and a half passed quietly. Carlisle came by, gently changing my bandages while talking distract me from the searing pain. Emmett had also appeared, all smiles and grins, save for the brief hatred-filled scowl that had crossed his broad face upon the sight of my extensive injuries. Even Esme had showed up, concerned and motherly as ever, chiding me to eat as she smoothed back the blanket I rested on.

The feeling it gave me was one that had all but vanished. Warmth. Security. Being wanted, being loved. I knew how much the Cullens had meant to me, even before this. Even before I endured torture, not saying a word to protect them. But never before had it occurred to me how much I meant to _them. _

Edward didn't show up, however. Alice informed me he was detained by "business" a euphemism I assumed referred to the conspiracy.

Now, the sun was once again sinking over the western horizon, casting long shadows in the room. I had explored the small house, realizing it contained two upper rooms, and a downstairs with only a crumbling fireplace and withered furniture. I was feeling restless, annoyed at being mostly confined to the bed, unable to do anything really useful.

I wasn't healed yet. Bruises, cuts, and burns covered my body. I was pitifully weak from lack of food, and severely dehydrated. I had also lost a large amount of blood, further deteriorating my health. The long lash marks that stretched over my back were some of the worst of my injuries. And despite the best care Carlisle could give, he had informed me gravely that the scars would probably never fade. A testament to my trials. Carlisle had been careful about changing the bandages, explaining that the wounds themselves weren't fatal, but could easily be infected with a disease that could cost me my life.

I was allowed to walk around the house, but not by the windows, as most people believed the house was deserted. But even the effort of scaling the stairs left me fatigued from lack of blood, and made the scars on my back burn in agony as they scraped over the tender, raw abrasions.

So I stared at the thatched ceiling, waiting for Edward. Emmett had just disappeared, informing me that Edward was on his way, and should be here in a few minutes.

The moments I was alone were rare, and short-lived. In the sedative silence, thoughts of what I would say to him, how I would act, swirled haphazardly around.

_The problem is, I think I care about him, far more than he does for me. _

Shaking these thoughts out of my mind, I had to stop myself from leaping to my feet when I heard a knock at the door. Moving slowly down the hall and to the top of the stairs, I paused abruptly.

The Cullens had shown me their knock sequences, signaling that it was them.The heavy-fisted pounding wasn't remotely like one I was used to.

Breath catching in my throat, I backed up, wincing as a lance of pain shot down my torso.

More knocking.

Then silence.

Breath coming halting and shallow, I cautiously crept forward to the stairwell.

Suddenly, I loud thump echoed up the rickety stairs and down the shabby hallway, freezing the air in my throat.

_Thump._

I backed up warily.

_Thump._

"_Crash_!" The door was knocked violently off its hinges. Splinters and wood fragments shattered from the pealing gray door. The fading rays of light stretched into the room, casting eerie shadows along the lopsided furniture.

Men entered. Clad in bloody-hued cloaks.

I backed up, almost hyperventilating, towards my room.

"Search the house," one ordered, voice cultured yet containing and undercurrent of cruelty.

Edward may not show up for another five minutes. By then, it will be too late.

_Even if he does_, a cynical voice added, _what can he do against five or six armed Guards? _

I was on my own.

----------------------------

**Yet another cliffhanger. This chapter originally ended differently, in a much more audience-friendly way, but I had a lot of spare time on my hands, and revised the chapter. I would blame the snowstorm, but on the other hand, I like snow. So I'll blame Comcast. **

**Reviews, critiques, questions, and comments are always appreciated. **

**Lon-Dubh**


	16. Chapter 15: Safety in Darkness

**This chapter is by far the shortest I've done, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have even made it into a chapter on its own. But I actually began feel slightly guilty about the last cliffhanger; if I could have done a poll, 99 of you would have called it evil. Some of you did. Some of you even called me evil. I'm flattered. Anyways, I decided you would rather have a shorter chapter sooner rather than a longer one, but having to wait to resolve the cliffhanger.**

**Enjoy.**

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My heart thumped in my throat, so loudly it seemed as if the whole block should be able to hear it. It thrummed through my ears, sending chilled blood rushing through my veins like a torrent from spring melting.

I could see them down the stairwell, crimson cloaks hanging from their broad shoulders. Fanning out through the room, I crouched as they roughly tossed aside rickety furniture, cursing in undertones at the lack of light. Attempting to calm my breathing, I slowly backed away, pleading with any higher power that would heed my prayer to not let my innate klutziness give me away.

Each moment was torture. Each painstakingly small step I took backwards, I held my breath, praying I wouldn't hit a squeaky floorboard. The faded, whitewashed wood of the hallway never seemed so foreboding, in the golden bathed, diminishing light that struggled through half-barred windows.

Easing into my room, I glanced at the bed, frowning. The smooth, white-cotton sheets were mussed, and the vague hint of soup flavored with spices hung in the oppressively thick air. The Guard would know someone had been here, as soon as they walked through the threshold.

That was, if they didn't find me first.

I closed my eyes, sparing a moment to hope that Edward would simply walk into the house, caught unawares.

Clearing my mind, I realized that idle wishes for people who could still be miles away were just that: idle.

I had only seconds to spare.

Really, I didn't even have that long.

Glancing around the room, I froze dead when I heard the squealing protest of the bottom stair. They were close, so close. If they caught me, would I end up in the same place? The deepest, dankest dungeons?

_Or would they even bother to keep me alive that long?_

I gasped in pain as I moved, injuries searing with a raging fire. I could feel the fragile wounds re-open, fresh, warm blood seeping sickeningly through the bandages.

I looked, panic-stricken around the room. No other doors. No roof to escape to. I would be recognized immediately, in the sparsely, if comfortably, furnished room. No where to hide.

My roving eyes fell on the windowsill.

_Don't be crazy! It's a fifteen foot drop._

Voices rose. Stairs creaked. If I strained, I could just make out the sinisterly gentle swish of cloaks.

_Crazy? Crazy would be staying here, just waiting to be discovered. _

Another call from down the hallway, significantly closer, brought the hairs on the back of my neck stiffly to attention, and sent a sudden burst of ice into my veins. But along with the near-blind-terror, there was a certain clarity.

_It's your only choice._

I ran to the window sill, not bothering to be silent. It was too late for discretion. Heart pounding, feeling almost nauseated, back screaming in outraged protest, I lifted myself clumsily onto the roughly hewn window sill. The last light of the dying sun shone brightly into my eyes, then vanishing onto the midnight, smokey-blue horizon. Almost as if it were an omen.

"Hey!" The surprised shout, emanating from behind me, almost caused me to topple from my precarious position. A man, his face shadowed in the twilight, but whose silhouette proved blatantly that he was larger than I, yelled with surprise.

Now or never.

Literally.

Not pausing to take a breath, I let myself fall from the two-story window.

And I was falling again, through the darkness. Déjà vu. But different. Before I had no idea what had hit me. Now I knew exactly what lay bellow.

Air screamed around me, dark shaped blurring in their speed. For a moment, I felt the exhilarating sensation of the wind through my hair, whipping strands across my face.

And then I hit the cobblestones below. My feet collapsed under me, shrieking in protest. It felt as if half the bones had shattered, leaving me a crumpled heap on the muck-coated paving. I had to grit my teeth to stop myself from screaming as the lash-marks ripped apart, once again engraving my skin. Warm blood dripped down my back, thoroughly soaked through the soft linen bandages. But angry shouts of the men in the house looming unstably behind me forced my to stand, stumbling slightly.

Head spinning, tears pouring unwilling down my cheeks contorted in pain, I caught the wall of the building opposite me, feeling the shattered wood embed splinters in my palm. Gasping in pain, I ran into the darkness.

But there's a problem with running in the dark, lash marks open and bleeding on your back, ankle sprained from impact, unable to see, unable to think, all you're being acutely consumed on listening for signs of pursuit. Difficult is an understatement.

Every fiber of my being and instincts screamed at me to run, no matter what lie ahead, because ahead was better than behind. And I followed those instincts, plummeting through the darkness, headless of what lie before me.

My steps were loud in the echoing gloom, my progress terrifyingly slow. My wounds hampered my progress, my fear creeping into my breath and send shivers of dread through my tortured body. Air was emitted, tortured and ragged from my dry throat. Head spinning, I stumbled along, acutely aware of the signs of pursuit behind me.

It took me several minutes to question where I was going. There's a quality about blind terror that seems to erase all reason, allowing pure instincts to take over. The houses around me still had the forlorn, shabby air that all abodes in the lower quarter of the city seemed to possess. The lightest hint of salt carried to me on the chilled, night breeze. Heart pounding, I strained to see obstacles in my path, praying that no one happened to be about in the dark hours after twilight.

Glancing around, I forced myself to think past the cold dread that seemed to surround me and chill my very breath. I had no idea where I was going. Only pure, primal instincts pushed me past my pain, pressed me further into the strange darkness.

_Where am I going?_

It seemed that dark streets and alleyways spread in front of me for miles. I needed some place to hide. Some place where the Cullens could find me, or a place they might check. Or else, they might just assume I was dead.

The answer came to me after a few more moments of panicked silence.

_The well._

Setting my teeth, I continued, warm tears spurred from agony falling down my cheeks contorted in the searing pain of my re-opened wounds. Eventually, I heard the faints sounds of pursuit fade. But I didn't dare rest.

Hurtling on through the gloom, I finally came to a halt before the well. The darkness there seemed even deeper than that which surrounded me. But the prospect of falling no longer scared me.

Panting, I flung a foot over the crumbling edge of the well, clinging to the rough stones in grim determination. Glancing downwards, I couldn't distinguish anything but blackness below. Taking a deep breath, I started me slow progress into the abyss.

The walls on the inside of the well were worn and corroded with age, the stones worn into semi-smoothness. Limbs shaking from exertion and fatigue, I clung to the stones invisible in the darkness. My wounds screamed in protest, bandages saturated in my own blood rubbing against the weeping wounds. My ragged breath echoed through the darkness as I made my perilous way into the darkness. Each moment, I had to visualize that the bottom was below me. I imagine stepping onto the reassuringly safe ground.

I hissed in pain as a sharp stone slit through the palm of my hand. Shaking from fatigue, I prayed the bottom was near. My muscles were inflamed, feeling as if they would give away under me at any moment.

Lowering myself once more, my groping hands searched for a crack to hold onto. My fingers met only a hard smoothness. Extending my arms to the side, I panted, ignoring the sharp ache that seemed to come from so many places it felt as if my whole body was one mass of injuries.

At last, finding a handhold, I gently eased myself downwards. My fingers slipped over a slick, mud coated crag. Yelling in surprise, I felt myself fall. Luckily, my descent had taken me almost all of the way down. I was airborne for only a second before hitting the ground. Rainwater from a recent storm had fallen into the well, dampening the walls and rendering the hard ground at the bottom into icy mud.

My hair was tangled around my face, muck and blood covering most of my body. Warm tears left clean tracks down my spattered face, my clothes and bandages looked as if someone had taken a knife to them then dragged them through the sewers. The entire cavern smelled dankly unpleasant, and was icy cold.

But I didn't have the strength to even drag myself from where I had fallen in a crumpled heap. I could feel the mud oozing into my open wounds, vaguely remembering that Carlisle had cautioned about keeping them clean to prevent infections.

_But what can I do? I don't have anything with me that isn't coated in mud. The Cullens may not find out what happened for hours yet. And they may even assume I'm dead. _

At last, allowed myself to fully cry. Soft sobs echoed hauntingly around me. It felt like it was the darkest edge of the world.

Allowing myself to close my eyes, shivering from the coldness and searing pain that ripped through my back, I forced myself into a painful sleep.

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**Not exactly a clean ending. But not an "evil" cliffhanger like the last one. I'll try to update soon; the next chapter will certainly be longer.**

**Lon-Dubh**


	17. Chapter 16: Just a Little Late

**Sorry for the delay. This past week was Halloween, as of course most of you realize, and I've been extremely busy.**

**Thank you to lizbre, my beta, for always being so available and encouraging as well as for putting up with the fact half the time I forget to thank her).**

**Enjoy!**

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**Edward's Point of View:**

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Twilight was just kissing the cold cobblestones of the city, breezing through alleyways, lingering on the glittering expanses of the docks cove. Crimson light arched from the horizon, bathing the world in a gentle glow that would always be too brief.

In a way, twilight was the most beautiful time. Holding a wild splendor, never becoming mundane, though I couldn't count the number of dusks I had seen so similar to this. It had an untamable exquisiteness to it, a quality of untouchability.

My gaze was anxious as it traveled over the crevices of the city. It took much of my self-control not to simply run at top speed to Isabella. But other matters, namely Dre Marsch, had kept me irritatingly occupied within the last few days

The emotion I felt for Isabella was unnamable. The pull I felt, the way I found myself thinking about her. About her hair, her face, her full lips curving into a vivacious smile. And yet, I also felt a fierce protectiveness for her. The urge—but not just a mere _urge_. The undeniable _need_ to be by her, so see her smile, laugh. Though she hadn't done so much of that in days past.

I had attempted to find all I could about her. Our long talks in the dead of night had revealed much, but so little, when compared to what I thirsted to know.

Because I thirsted for Isabella. And not just for her blood.

She held me simply captivated every time I saw her. The stirrings I felt within my long still heart were new. And there was no way to adequately give name to them.

_Perhaps they were love._

It seemed ludicrous that I should fall in love with this girl. An insignificant human, among so many others. Oh yes, I cared about them, about my purpose. But I had seen far too much suffering. And more than that, I heard far too much pain, even for my years. Being a telepath was just as much a burden as a blessing. The hopeless, lost faces of the people I had saved still haunted me. Never leaving the vision behind my midnight eyes.

Except for when I was with her.

She let me forget the pain, the suffering. The despairing thoughts of the hopeless. On the contrary, she _gave_ me hope.

One part of myself was repelled by what I was feeling. She was a young, so young. I could be her great-great-great-great-grandfather. The time I had come from, the time I should have died in, was so drastically different than the present. And more daunting, was the fact I wasn't even human.

Because Isabella was an angel, even past the bruises, the emotional pain. So pure, so strong, even in spite of what she had gone through.

I thirsted for far more than her blood.

It had been a shock when I realized I couldn't read her mind, simply know her thoughts as I had to so many others. A complication. And yet, I felt even more drawn to her. Her mysteriousness. The way her soulful chocolate eyes lit up when she glanced my way. At times like these, it almost felt as if my long dead heart was beating. And I could pretend to myself that she cared for me just as much as I cared for her.

Alice had known of course. Nothing escaped her. But she had been happy. Exuberant. According to her and Esme, I had been alone for far too long. The fact that I cared about a girl who was hundreds of years younger, as well as a human, couldn't sufficiently daunt their happiness.

They hoped for far too much.

At first, I had been alarmed by the sweet potency of her blood. And shaken that, for all my years of fastidious control, one human could still so severely test my willpower. But I had controlled myself. I would never have forgiven myself, had I not.

It had taken all of my strength, all of my resolve not to storm the dungeons where she had been held and rescue my angel. But, the other human, Angela had not died before then. We had tried to save her. But it was too late. And then, it was even too late to rescue Isabella, because of the Guard. Had I had my way, I wouldn't have cared how many Guards I would have had to murder. I would have done it, in an instant, had I known I could get Isabella back. But it would cause too much suspicion. And we were too far embroiled in this plot to allow light to fall upon our plans.

So we had waited until their guard was down.

Yet again, my control was tested when I saw what had been done to her. Her translucent, perfectly milky skin had been bruised and scraped. She was covered in grime and dirt, tear tracks running down her soft cheeks. But what had almost sent me toppling over the edge, into the dark abyss I had once allowed myself to surrender to, was the lash marks.

Marring her beautiful skin. Running down her back, deep and sickly. Her skin ripped completely clean, in places.

At that moment, I would have cheerfully murdered any and all Guards I had come across.

And it was that moment that I realized how much I truly cared.

The poor, leaning house where Isabella was recovering in came within my sight, after what had seemed like hours of panicked walking. A slow smile spread itself across my features.

But then I smelled it. Blood. And not just any blood. Blood so sweet, so lingering, like the softest hint of freesia.

_Isabella._

The peeling door of the house was flung roughly off its hinges. Whitewash had been chipped of the walls, and cold rays of moonlight illuminated the inside of the shanty. Molding brown furniture was tossed, unheeded in corners, the smell of multiple humans lingering.

I stopped breathing.

_This is my fault. All my fault. Had I hurried, had I done more…_

I never should have allowed her alone. Not even for the scarce few minutes it had taken me to arrive. Because a few minutes was all it took for everything to change.

I raced around the house, quick eyes darting. One room was warmer, comfortably furnished with bed and nightstand. But that wasn't what caught my attention.

Her scent was potent here. The rumpled bed smelled so intoxicatingly strong. And yet… it was _wrong_. Other scents mingled with the sweet on of my angel's. Cold odors, carrying the vaguest hint of iron.

There was blood on the windowsill.

Racing down the stairs, I stepped into the dark night. Silvery moonlight glowed from above, the moon bright and luminescent. But I didn't spare even a moment to admire the sparklingly resplendent heavens. All I cared about was my own earthbound angel.

There was blood coating the muck covered cobblestones of the alley. And her smell, vague, but there. It was confusingly mingled with that of other men.

She was hurt. Alone. Being chased.

And it was my fault.

I felt anger, hate, surge powerfully through me. So potent, it knocked the wind out of my lungs. I wanted to rip, to tear. To kill anyone who would dare hurt such an angel.

And yet, simultaneously, I felt the cold lance of dread race through my already icy body. What if she wasn't all right?

But I would do anything, _everything_, to get her back.

Racing through the darkness, I turned my mind only to my task. I allowed myself to taste the metallic burn of hate on my tongue.

I ran.

But the potent hint of guilt was always pursuing, something I could never elude.

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**Bella's Point of View:**

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The voices, when I first heard them, were soft. Distant. Fading in and out of focus seamlessly. Just whispers, echoes of the world.

"She's alive, Edward. I told you--"

"I'm not in the mood for rhetoric, Alice. What else have you seen?"

Silence.

"Alice?"

"I'm not sure. Its…dark. I can't tell."

"Alice, get Carlisle. Now."

"What is--"

-----------------------

Darkness. Almost calming, in a way. Reassuring, certainly. Nothing could touch me here, it felt like. And yet, these moments of lucidity were brief. Usually it was just darkness. A deep, impenetrable shadow I couldn't pierce. Nor did I care to. The majority of the time was ruled by simple, irresistible disorientation. And yet, I hated that darkness. The vaguest hint of sinisterness. Of disquietude.

----------------------

"—what can we do?"

New voices. Grave, somber. Holding the faintest hint of anxiety. The sharp edge of a deep dread.

A sigh. Heavy, burdened. As if the owner bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. "There isn't a lot we can do. She has a very serious infection," the voice explained. Calmly, rationally.

The voices were different this time. More muted. And yet, in a twisted way, more unambiguous.

"—must be something."

"There would. Two hundred years ago. But in this era, the minimal technology. Even with all my skill… Years ago, this wouldn't have even been life threatening. But now…."

-----------------------------

"You have to let her rest. Hovering here… hurting yourself… it isn't helping her. You have to rely on her."

"But she's so weak. If she dies---"

"You'll never forgive yourself?"

Silence.

"Edward, she isn't dead yet."

"Why can't Alice See--"

"You're torturing yourself more than anyone could would they put their minds to it. You can't do anything here. You have to leave it to her."

"This is my fault--"

"There was nothing you could have done."

"There should have been."

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In a way, the disorienting, half sickly, partly menacing darkness was my dearest friend. It allowed me a brief release, a quiet escape from the worried voices. From the shattering pain that seemed to rend through my body, that burned through my chest and lungs, so that even breathing was a labor, one which left me cold and gasping.

I hated that darkness, that cloaked me from the world I wished to return to. And yet, I clung to it. Not wanting to face the cruel pain, the dread laden voices.

_What were they afraid of?_

-----------------------

"Have you seen anything?"

"No."

A frustrated sigh. A cold pressure, gently sweeping across my pain-contorted cheek. My eyelids were too heavy to rise. Even if I had been capable, I'm not entirely certain I would have chosen to return.

"—Carlisle said all we can do is wait. He's done all he can."

"—so frustrating. Two hundred years ago, she wouldn't be like this."

"Two hundred years ago, nothing would be like this."

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A different voice this time. Deeper, bass. And yet, holding the harassed edge of panic rendering it hoarse. "You never did tell me much about your father, you know. But I don't think he would have wanted you to die."

--------------------------------

"Please Isabella. Don't die." It was just a whisper. So faint, yet heartbreakingly tragic I half wondered whether I had imagined the voice, from the depths of my twisted madness.

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My midsection felt as if it had been run through with a rusting broadsword. My chest felt like it had been filled with smoldering embers, even my fingers tingled unpleasantly. And yet, there was something soft. Something comforting.

An icy touch on my burning forehead. Light as swan feathers, yet with the gentlest of pressure. The faintest hint of longing.

"I'm so sorry."

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**As my beta would say "I am leaving you at Cliffside again". Which I am. And she accused me of being evil because I'm enjoying it thoroughly. Which, of course, is completely accurate. She knows me remarkably well for someone I've never met who's hundreds of miles away.**

**The next update should be coming sooner, seeing as there aren't any holidays this week. Don't try to ask what happens, because of course I won't tell you.**

**Points to anyone who can think of the best death threat.**

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**Lon-Dubh**


	18. Chapter 17: A Change of Plans

**I'm so sorry about the delay. I've had mid-semester testing almost all last week Grrr. Well, that's life. Or rather, that's life at a school full of evil, schizophrenic teachers.**

**This chapter is in a different point of view than I typically use. But I looked back on my story and decided Jasper just hasn't gotten enough of a say.**

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Jasper's POV:

I relaxed my stiff posture, fully closing half-open eyes and sending out a subtle wave of serenity throughout the room. Slumping in the comfortable sofa, I pulled Alice closer to me, smiling slightly when she rested her head lightly on my chest. The room was warm and tastefully decorated, rich chocolate and beige tones offsetting the occasional burgundy highlight. A fire crackled merrily in the polished walnut hearth, sending off a comforting golden glow. But even the warm atmosphere, not to mention my own special touches to the mood of the room, was not enough the obscure the air of rigid tension and anxiety in the room. Particularly from Edward.

Reluctantly opening my eyes, I glared balefully at my "brother" who had abandoned his moody slouch in a padded chair to pace around the room, prowling like a caged predator. His step was light, almost muffled in the thick golden carpet, but thick aura of fear gave him away.

"Edward, you're not helping her. Stop worrying, it's giving me a headache," I growled, not truly annoyed. My unique sensitivity may have altered me susceptible to the effects of my brother's anxiety, but it also gave me an insight.

Edward cared about this human, this Isabella. He cared far more than he let on, though the faint traces of uncertainty led me to believe he wasn't even assured what he was feeling himself. After all, he had been alive for hundreds of years, but never had he experienced something like this before. The fact that he had found someone to care about, even if the situation that had brought it about was peculiar in the least led me to be grateful to this girl I knew little about. I had lived for centuries feeling Edward's dark, sardonic interpretation of the world. The light cast into that shadow, in such a brief amount of time, was nothing short of spectacular.

I had talked to Isabella, and my first impressions of her were similar to that I would feel for any other human outsider. She was scared yes, and confused. But I could sense beneath that obvious shell there was a quality of courage and self-sacrifice, a trait that coincided alarmingly neatly with Edward's own. One of the only problems I could foresee with their relationship, not having to be a clairvoyant like my wife, was the tendency of both to be rather selfless. Added to Edward's predominant streak of over-protectiveness and propensity to blow things wildly out of proportion, it would make an interesting match.

But what I found most interesting about Isabella was not her hidden courage. I had tasted her fear and confusion, and a tumult of other troubled emotions, most emanating from memories of her past. But running through it all was an ability to love. The same streak I had discovered in every other person of our family, including Rosalie, shallow as she could sometimes be. That, if nothing else, endeared me to this half-known human stranger.

And now, when she lay hovering just out of the reaches of death's claws, Edward was frantic. Absolutely faint with anxiety, through he would never show it. He cared about her, in a fashion that reminded me very much of my own devotion to Alice.

Edward turned smoothly to glare irately back at me. "You haven't gotten a head-ache for hundreds of years, Jasper. I find it highly unlikely you're suddenly starting to now," he replied acerbically.

I didn't even bother to roll my eyes at his caustic rebuttal, knowing he would pick up my opinion from my mind. Snarling, he turned his back to me, prowling through the room again. Alice stirred restlessly at my side. I glanced down at her warmly, not taking her love for granted, even after all this time. Catching sight of her expression, I didn't need to be an empath to tell what she was feeling. A small frown creased between her smooth, dark brows, and her golden eyes were reflected with worry. It made her immensely uneasy not to be able to see the future, and even more irritated because she had no idea why her sudden "blindness" was occurring.

"I still can't See," she muttered, running her small, pale hands down my arm. Waves of uncertainty rolled off of her, and I grimaced. It killed me to feel her like this. Figuratively, of course.

I stroked her short, dark hair gently. "It will be all right," I murmured, though I knew everyone in the room could hear me if they wished. "As you have told me so many times before, 'The future will eventually become the present. Things have a way of working themselves out.'"

A smile, half of irony and half of genuine mirth crossed her thin face. Reverting her attention away from me, she settled back down, lightly massaging her temples.

Shaking my head, I turned to glance back at Edward. His bronze hair threw off the merrily glowing firelight, his eyes cast in shadow. The bruised looking rings under his eyes that normally lingered there seemed even deeper, as though her truly were suffering from sleep deprivation. "Edward," I sighed in exasperation. "Haven't you even considered the other alternative? It wouldn't be that difficult, you could ask Carlisle--"

"No!" He snarled, interrupting my train of thoughts he had clearly picked up. "That's not an option."

I raised my eyebrows questioningly, remembering Edward's views of souls and hell. "She's close to _dying_, Edward. Alice can't See, and Carlisle doesn't know what the odds are. If you want to stay with her, it may be your only option."

Edward cast a derisive glare in my general direction before turning his back on me to pace again, muttering unintelligibly under his breath. I sighed, having the urge to leap up and seize him be the neck, wrangling some sense into him. The only problem was he wouldn't suffer any ill-effects from lack of oxygen to his brain. That and the fact I was much too comfortable with Alice nestled up beside me to move.

"You love her, Edward," I snapped, gentling my voice when Alice stirred beside me. Continuing, even in his mild feeling of shock, I began talking again. "I've felt it, Edward; and I _know _it, even if you don't. And she cares about you too. What will you do if she dies? Sulk for the rest of eternity, or go back to brooding like you have for centuries?"

Edward snarled, lips pulled back from his gleaming white teeth. Before he could respond, I interrupted again. "If Alice had been dying, I would do anything to stay with her. _Anything._ Love's too rare a thing to give up, particularly for the sake of noble beliefs about sparing her an eternity of damnation."

Edward stopped pacing now, fully turning to glower at me. The golden-orange fire crackled at his back, making him a dark silhouette in the warmly decorated room. "No one," he hissed, "Has the right to make the decision of something of this nature for another person."

"So Carlisle wasn't right to change you," I asked, affected surprise in my voice. "Even when you were dying? Even when you had nothing else to live for?"

"We don't know Isabella will die," He interrupted, pacing once again. "I will not condone stealing her life from her."

"By the time you know whether she will die or not, it will be too late," I snapped cruelly, feeling a slight trace of guilt as Edward flinched.

"Stop it!" Alice abruptly lashed. Her fingers were clenched around here temples, her body rigid with concentration. Waves of anxiety rolled off of her, like excess from a tidal pool. Her eyes were clamped tightly shut, long eyelashes brushing her cheekbones.

Everyone froze, staring intensely at her. I gently stroked circles on her back, willing her to relax, for the vision to end. At long last she slumped in the chair, shaking her head as if to clear it.

"What is it?" I asked urgently, gently taking Alice's small hand into my own. Casting a quick glance at Edward, I frowned. He leaned against the mantel, lightly massaging his temples, a small grimace creasing his forehead. Glancing up, he met my questioning gaze with anxiety, confusion his predominant feeling.

"Alice?" I asked gently. Slowly, she glanced up, eyes worried. "What did you see?"

"The Guard," she said, her chime-like voice unusually hoarse. "Coming. But then… darkness. People being chased? I'm not sure. Shattered glass, all over the floor. It was shining. And then—there was blood."

Her cryptic answer didn't alarm me nearly as much as the distressed, disoriented way she spoke. "The Guard are coming? Here?" Alice nodded mutely, clasping her hands together uneasily. "When?"

"Now," she whispered, though it was just as much a question as a statement.

I froze, my gaze flickering to the polished oak wood doorway. "Would they really come here? If they did then…."

"Then they are ready to expose us." Edward finished, straightening.

Alice scrambled gracefully from my hold. "There isn't any room for ambiguity anymore. When need to evacuate this house, including all of the servants. We need to either take or destroy all of the documents and records. Everything. And we need to do it _now_."

I cleared my throat. "What about our operations? They aren't completely finished."

Edward smiled slightly, though the expression was entirely mirthless. "We already have the docks rigged, so that's set up. But we haven't had enough time to finish our plans involving the other nobles."

"There is a solution for that," I added lightly.

"You're all into killing people today, aren't you Jasper?" Edward asked sourly.

I shrugged. "Carlisle won't like it. But there's nothing else we can really do to stop the progress of the slave trade in the area. It wasn't our original plan, I'll admit. But it will slow them down for years. Maybe longer. It's the only solution that's even plausible," I added.

Alice sighed heavily. She didn't agree with bloodshed either. But she, more than many, would realize the necessity in this case. "We can set off the docks before we leave. And take care of the officials, I suppose," she cast me a furtive glance, eyes vaguely troubled. "I don't like it. But it's really our only option."

Edward eyed her for a split second. "Okay. We need to get Carlisle--"

"What was that about me?" I whipped my head around, realizing I must have been totally absorbed in the conversation to have not have heard him approaching. He smiled, gently shutting the side door behind him. "Isabella has improved. With rest, she should recover." Pausing, he frowned, catching sight of our troubled faces. "What is it?"

Ignoring the sudden flare of happiness emanating from Edward, I launched into the explanation. By the time I had finished, Carlisle was frowning deeply. "We need to do precisely as Alice has said. Evacuate everyone, everything. We cannot afford to leave traces, evidence behind us."

"What about Isabella?" Edward interrupted, glancing worriedly at the door.

Carlisle slumped slightly. "She is improving. But she shouldn't' be relocated. We cannot count on a full recovery if she's moved."

Edward cut in, before Carlisle could finish his statement. "We can't leave her behind."

"I know. But I don't even know where we're going, and she shouldn't be moved at all. We have a lot of plans set in place, which--"

"We've already discussed tying up… loose ends," I cut in, wording my statement carefully.

Carlisle looked at me, golden eyes full of somber understanding. He sighed, resting his forehead in his pale hands for a moment before glancing up, pained acceptance in his aura. "I understand. I'll start evacuating the house. Get Emmett, Rosalie, and Esme. We'll need to work on this together. I'll transfer all of the servants out of the city, we have caravans left behind. We can give them an allotment of money, to start a new life in another city. Not flawless, but it's the only thing that comes to mind." He glanced at Edward. "If you want to risk moving Isabella, you'll have to carry her."

Edward nodded, setting his jaw. An air of intense determination waved out from him. He quickly slipped away, hands clenched at his sides.

I glanced worriedly at Alice. "Did you See anything else?"

She sighed in tense exasperation. "No. Just the same thing. The Guard, the dark, the glass..."

"The blood," I added, stroking her arm comfortingly.

"Yes," she whispered, "the blood." She stood in silence for as moment, before turning to me, a grim light of determination born of desperation flaming brightly in her golden eyes. "We have maybe thirty minutes to clean the house."

"It's a good thing we're vampires."

She made a face, trying to find humor in my attempted lightheartedness. "Let's go."

"Quickly," I added, releasing her arm. I tried to suppress her oncoming feeling of dread while fighting off my own, similar emotion of impending panic. So much could change, in so little time. But if I had learned anything in my centuries as an empath, it was that attitude is everything. Literally.

And the first step to controlling the situation was to controlling your emotions.

The only flaw in that philosophy is the fact I've never met anyone, human or vampire, who was entirely successful at that feat.

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**I challenged you with death threats last chapter, and some of your rose to the challenge… err… **_**magnificently**_

**starlightwilight—2 points. I actually don't like shopping, so it fits in.**

**FishFriend— 2 points. Expressive. Definitely not the run of the norm.**

**Bella4ever—2 points. You wish.**

**Ksangi—3 points. It sounds like you're a hit-man.**

**daydream princess—3 points. Evil pink bunnies???**

**twilightlovr—4 points. Nice humor, definitely added to the fact that you reviews doubly.**

**SweetExscape—4 points. Uhh, very detailed. Not a lot more I can add.**

**vikkaayBYAH—5 points. Nice idea. Too bad the fan doesn't actually know what I'm going to write.**

**Jennarae—5 points. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Wood chipper? **

**Siriuslyfun19212—6 points. Descriptive. Probably the most imaginative death threat I've ever received. But, to quote my beta, "why did you have to bring poor Elton John into it?"**

**And, the grand prize goes too…. **

**let-words-free-you—8 points. A strange mix of humor and gruesomeness. Apparently I'm being excommunicated. **

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**I swear I'll try to update as soon as possible. I think I'm beginning to show symptoms of developing a conscience about all the cliffhangers. **

**Lon-Dubh**


	19. Chapter 18: Love and Daggers

**This is much later in coming than I had expected. My aunt brought some kind of yogurt, pistachio pudding to Thanksgiving dinner, and I ate it so she wouldn't get her feelings hurt. Guess what? I got a mild case of food poisoning. Though I can't be positive where I got it, it seems too great a coincidence that anyone who ate my aunt's creation was afflicted. So, a lesson learned. Rule number one: Don't eat oddly colored puddings, especially when they come from a person who never mastered the fine art of cooking. Ugh…**

**I hope you had a good Thanksgiving, all who celebrate it, that is. One bad thing about this time of year though: the tests. Teachers tend to go a bit berserk around the holidays, am I the only one who noticed?**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter, though you might be even more unhappy with me by the end of this piece. The climax is arriving……….**

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The world was strangely dark around me, cloaked in an oppressive layer of midnight. Or perhaps it wasn't so strange, after all. At some moments, I was aware of an intense, searing pain. A flame that seemed to burn through my flesh and into the very marrow of my bones. And yet at other instances, I could comprehend nothing. Neither pain nor relief. I was strangely aware of my disorientation, but too weak to fight the intrusive darkness off. This occurrence of ache and dimness had become all too common as of late.

When the shroud of darkness finally began to lift, I became aware of another dusk. Cold, sweet. But unlike the other midnight in which I had drifted, barely anchored to this world, this one was real. Or as real as anything in this world can be.

Stirring weakly, I opened my eyes to darkness. Cool air hung around me in a comforting blanket, softly whispering through my hair. Slowly, I became aware of iron arms gently holding me, of swift, smooth motion. Whispers emanated from the gloom around me, the faint sounds of others' movement. Blinking rapidly, I attempted to make out the silhouettes through the darkness, but it was in vain. The creaking roll of wagon wheels came from somewhere in front of me, and the hushed complaint of a child.

"Isabella?" The voice was soft, gentle, the caress of angel's wings. Weakly, I craned my neck to look upward. Edward's beautiful face appeared from the gloom, impossibly pale skin seeming to radiate its own light in the darkness. His copper hair fell untidily over his forehead, where a small from of concern creased his brow. With a jolt, I realized he was holding me, effortlessly as if he were holding an infant. I was instantly, acutely aware of the way his strong arms gently carried me, almost with a tender compassion. Hyperaware of the closeness of our bodies, I couldn't help the hot blush that came unbidden to my cheeks.

Edward glanced at my face in confusion for a second, his expression quickly smoothing. "We were so worried… You got an infection—not surprising, seeing as you were practically swimming in mud when we found you. Carlisle wasn't sure… for a while no one was, not even Alice, whether you'd--"

"Live?" I asked, mildly surprised. It seemed that I had been injured so much lately I was becoming inured. Just another scrape with death, after all. Frowning, I glanced around myself. "Why are we outside?"

Edward's face unexpectedly broke into a wicked grin. "Oh, the Guard has decided we're too much of a threat. They're coming to arrest us."

I eyed him doubtfully. A twisted sense of humor only went so far. "And this is a good thing because…"

Edward shrugged easily, and I winced as the movement jostled my wounds. After shooting me a quick, apologetic look, he answered me. "We already have… plans set in place to finish up what we cannot. Let's just say that the mysterious "ghost" is going to make another, rather dramatic appearance soon." He paused, a slow smile extending across his perfect lips. "We'll be leaving the city, then. I'll be glad, actually. This place has been one of the more… unpleasant of my family's stays."

"Where are you going?"

Edward shrugged noncommittally, as if the matter of his imminent future was of no great importance. "We'll figure out something," he replied lightly.

Something slowly occurred to me, and I felt the hot blush that mantled my cheeks give way to coldness. "Where are you taking me?"

Edward glanced down at me, butterscotch eyes first confused, then hurt. Quickly looking away, her replied, his smooth voice trying to hide the sudden wave of melancholy that seemed to envelope him. "I had hoped that—that you would come with us. Of course, I understand," he added hastily, seemingly not seeing my thunderstruck expression. "If you don't wish to come… Carlisle can make other arrangements, naturally. It's nothing, of course. I had hoped, but…"

His smooth voice dwindled off into nothing, leaving me in silence. It had never occurred to me that I meant enough to him, that he cared enough about me, to actually want to be with me. Our relationship had so far been fleeting, swift glances and unsure words. Conversations that seemed almost nonexistent, a fleet touch, and air of embarrassment. I knew how I felt, how he made me feel. Edward was so beautiful, so considerate. He seemed to belong to a world which I never could, beyond my reach in his flawlessness.

I loved him, even in this short period of time. And I had allowed myself to love him, even though I knew my affection would never be returned. Edward belonged to another… I couldn't quite place the word. But he didn't belong to me. And even though he may have seemed kind, interested even, I had never considered the possibility he cared for me as much as I for him.

"No, that's not it," I managed to reply, voice sounding strangely distant, even to my own ears. "I just didn't think that you'd want--"

"That we wouldn't want you to come?" Edward's voice was accentuated heavily with incredulity, then colored into a tone of relief so profound it amazed me. "Don't be absurd, Isabella. You mean a lot to this family, Alice and Emmett would never forgive me for leaving you behind. And I could never leave you…not now. I should have, when I first met you. I'm not that healthy for you to be around, assuredly. But," Edward finally paused from his tirade, his words so swift and glib I had trouble comprehending them. "I could never leave you, not unless you wanted me to, Isabella." His voice was soft, gentle. Molten butterscotch eyes regarded me with a strange intensity, begging me to understand. His breath washed over me, intoxicatingly sweet. "Never, unless you wish it." Again, softer. "I love you."

I was dazed for at least a minute. In the dark of a chilled night, fleeing for our freedom, with others bustling around us seemed like the least likely place we would be declaring for each other. But maybe that was what love is, beautiful, unexpected, and blind.

"Of course I'll come." Finally managed to reply, voice trembling slightly. "I thought you realized…"

Edward's eyes bored hypnotically into my own. "Realized what?"

"I—I love you." It was the kind of heartrending confession you only hear of in fanciful bards' tales. The kind of statement that didn't seem to exist, or the kind of sentence that seemed it should sound fake, clichéd. But in the intensity of the moment, nothing else mattered. Not the people moving in frightened anxiety around us, not the impatient snorts and stomps of horses. It was one of pure, crystalline moments that I had believe belonged only in fairytales.

Edward pale face broke into a dazzling smile, taking away my breath again.

"If you're done saying what you should a long time ago…" A mischievous, chime-like voice came from behind me. "We need to get moving."

Glancing into the darkness, Alice appeared in front of me, flanked by Jasper. Her black, shortly cropped hair seemed to disappear into the darkness, but the radiant, smug smile that adorned her face did not. Even Jasper wore a ghost of a grin, his eyes flickering from Edward to me, and back again.

"Alice," Edward began, a strange hint of warning in his voice. I frowned, glancing up at him.

Changing the subject, I struggled not to smile at the smirk adorning Alice's thin face. "So, when can I walk on my own?"

Edward turned his glare towards me, though a hint of laughter in his eyes gave him away. "Don't change the subject," he replied, a smile curving on his smooth lips. Shadows played over his face, casting his eyes into darkness.

I raised my eyebrows in attempted innocence. "Are you not going to answer my question?"

Edward snorted, rolling his eyes. The gesture would have looked unflattering on almost anyone else, but never on him. "A few days, perhaps. You probably could, right now, but Carlisle explicitly told me much more strain to your immune system could end in… unpleasant consequences."

"I wasn't kidding when I said we need to get moving, Edward," Alice warned. "We'll split up as we leave the city, each going by different routes, as we discussed. Once everyone's out, we can commence Plan B."

"Do I even want to know what '_Plan B'_ is?" I complained.

Edward glanced down at me, a mischievous smile playing around his lips. "No," he said, frankly. "But Emmett will probably tell you all about it later."

"Wonderful," I muttered, rolling me eyes. In reality, it took all my willpower not to be laughing in delight. _Later._ There would be a later with the Cullens, and Edward.

Even as we were running for our liberty, and probably lives, I found time passed peacefully. The minutes slipped by without notice, finding us soon in the twisting alleyways of the city. Night had cloaked the sky, dim stars guiding us with feeble light. But as we walked quietly, quickly through this city that had been my prison for almost a year, I felt more serene than I had in untold time.

Edward didn't seem to notice the dark, or the fact I weighed more than he should have been able to so easily carry. None of us noticed the weathered buildings as we passed, nor the rank smell of sewer waste. All that mattered was us.

We didn't talk much, both of us settling into a comfortable silence. I allowed myself to lean back into Edward's hard chest, ignoring the cold that seemed to radiate from him. And he seemed content to hold me in his arms, never breaking his smooth stride as he weaved slowly to the outskirts of the city.

We were almost free of the last encroaching lights when a faint creak halted Edward in his tracks. He paused, still as a carved statue, eyes flickering alarmedly between the dark alleyways of buildings.

"What is it?" I whispered, voice hoarse. My own eyes strained to see through the impenetrable gloom, but my senses had already been stretched to the breaking point today. I felt oddly, yet pleasantly sleepy, my extremities seemed dulled by a mild state of exhaustion.

"I'm not sure," Edward began, his voice so low I barely managed to make out his words. "But I thought something…." He frowned, stilling again, as if able to discern some kind of movement through the gloom I had been incapable to see.

His face seemed even paler than usual, drained of all color. His expression was frozen into lines of paralyzed anxiety, still as carved marble. He could have been a statue of a brooding god, portrayed forever in dread filled silence.

"Someone's here," he hissed, arms tightening involuntarily around me, in an unconscious gesture of protection.

"Who?" I asked through frozen lips. My hands were shaking slightly, though I couldn't have told whether it was from fear, or just sheer exhaustion. Perhaps a mixture of both.

"I'm not sure," Edward replied, voice strangely frustrated, as if he should be able to easily tell whom lurked in the shadows at this time of night.

"Put me down," I hissed, glancing at my surroundings. The cobblestones were rough, most likely chilled at this time. But I could easily lean up against a building.

"Why?" Edward asked, sending a swift, searching glance.

"If someone's there, they're there for a reason," I insisted, vaguely proud my voice didn't tremble. "They're watching us, they're probably dangerous. You need two hands."

"I need," he contradicted coldly, "To take care of you. That is my first priority. I will not allow you to lie down on the ground when you're recovering."

"You can't protect me if you can't protect yourself," I snapped softly, understanding his hesitation but wanting to strangle him for his over protectiveness. "You can't keep anyone safe with both arms full."

"We could just keep walking," I Edward murmured, face illuminated eerily in the weak moonlight. "But then whoever it is would follow us, and find our destination. We can't lead someone to a hiding place."

"Edward, put me down," I growled, weakly struggling in his vice-like arms. "You can't be defenseless because of me."

Edward glanced down, face torn. But the seed of ornery tenacity still clearly shown in his butterscotch eyes. He was determined not to let go.

"What other choice do you have? You have to check." I paused for emphasis. "_Now_."

Finally the stubborn light in Edward's eyes flickered uncertainly. "You can be quick," I appeased him. "It will only be a moment."

"Fine," he snarled, though I knew his feral anger wasn't directed towards me.

Smoothly, he gently settled me onto the hard ground. I leaned weakly against the wall, giving him reassuring smile. Frowning thunderously, he strode into the engulfing darkness, disappearing from my sight.

I shivered slightly, gripping the warm woolen coat Alice has bestowed me with earlier. Leaning my head against the roughly hewn wall of the house, I waited in silence, straining to make no sound from the darkness.

It couldn't have been more than thirty seconds. But everything can change, in such a short time. I should have realized that by now.

Something cold and sharp slipped over my throat. My breath froze in my lungs, ice pouring through my veins. I glanced painfully downwards.

A wickedly sharp dagger was pressed against my throat, hard enough to draw a crimson streak of blood, but light enough as to not seriously injured me. I felt the pointed blade slice into the tender skin of my throat while sitting motionless, helpless. Warm blood trickled unpleasantly down my throat, soaking through the soft, cream colored wool of my overcoat.

"Be very still, girl," a soft voice crooned, just behind me. The tone was familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. Sickly smooth. "Stand up," the speaker snarled, yanking me roughly to my feet. The nerves in my body screamed in protest, my knees trembled from fatigue. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run, but I found myself incapable.

I could feel the warmth of a body behind me, pressing into my own. My breathing hitched, eyes closing, as the gleaming silver dagger sunk deeper into my throat.

"Come out, now," Yelled my captor, his voice echoing eerily in the darkness.

Almost immediately, Edward emerged form the darkness. For the first time since I had met him, he looked truly frightening. His eyes seemed to be onyx black, flashing with hatred. His pale, smooth face was contorted into a silent snarl, white teeth flashing menacingly in the moonlight. A long, thin blade glimmered sinisterly in the moonlight, clutched lightly in his long fingered hand.

"Drop it," the voice behind me snarled, voice obviously directed at Edward. Immediately he obeyed, the blade falling to the stone with a strange, lonely clatter.

"Edward," I whispered, voice hoarse. His eyes snapped immediately to mine, as if he had been able to hear. The blade slowly sliced into my neck, sending more crimson down my neck. I felt my eyes burn, tears clinging to my eyelashes. He didn't need to see me like this. And it was my fault, for forcing him to let me down.

"Don't cry, pretty," the voice crooned, his tone tick with sinister menace. "Now that I have your attention," he raised his voice slightly, "you will do exactly as I say. Kneel."

Edward acquiesced immediately, eyes flashing like a fiend. The very air around him seemed to ripple and contort in his fury, a hatred that seemed to emanate off of him in an almost palpable mist. The moonlight that had seemed to magical, so fleetingly romantic, held nothing but coldness now, whispering of chilled peril.

"I am surprised to see you alive," the voice said in my ear, pleasantly, as if he were remarking upon the weather to an old friend. "And if you should remain in that state depends entirely upon your _protector's_," he sneered the word, "answers."

"Now," he began, obviously talking to Edward, knife pressing perilously close to my trachea. "Let's talk about that family of yours."

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**As always, I'd love to hear questions, comments, critiques. There aren't any holidays in the near future: cross your fingers and I might be able to get the next chapter done by Friday night.**

**Happy Holidays,**

**Lon-Dubh**


	20. Chapter 19: Beautiful Betrayer

**Hello everyone! I'm extremely sorry about the horribly extensive wait, I've been going through a rough patch recently, with exams, illness, and some family issues… I'll stop babbling now, because my reasons suck. **

**Thank you to everyone who had the patience with me to keep this story on their favs/ alerts!**

**I hope to update again by Tuesday.**

**Enjoy!**

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**Refresher:**

"_I am surprised to see you alive," the voice said in my ear, pleasantly, as if he were remarking upon the weather to an old friend. "And if you should remain in that state depends entirely upon your protector's," he sneered the word, "answers."_

"_Now," he began, obviously talking to Edward, knife pressing perilously close to my trachea. "Let's talk about that family of yours."_

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"Now," the voice continued, tone heavy with blatant menace. "How is it that there is no trace of your family in other cities you_ claimed_," he sneered the word, "to have lived in?"

I kept my eyes locked on Edward, his pale skin almost emanating luminescence in the chilling midnight. Ebony orbs drilled into the space behind my shoulder, where I assumed by assaulter's face loomed. The horrible, awesome depth of his eyes struck me at that moment, more than it ever had before. Sparks of hatred seemed to make his entire face gleam, sharply contrasting with the pitch surroundings.

Despite myself, I found my interest morbidly provoked. But I didn't want the answers to the shadowed secrets I knew he was harboring to be delivered to me like this, under threat.

"Not interested in talking?" The cold metal dug more deeply into my tender flesh, permeating the air with the nauseating scent of my own blood. The blade pressed perilously close to my trachea, making me afraid to even breathe.

Edward's face flickered with something alarmingly like pain, mixed with revulsion. His hands were clenched painfully tight at his sides, and he averted his eyes for a moment, stilling. Squinting through the darkness, it appeared as if he were breathing even less than I. And abruptly, his gaze turned back towards my own. A curious blankness covered his face, an icy mask. The facade slipped for just a moment when his onyx eyes met my own, a jolt of electricity passing between us.

And then he turned towards my captor, expression calm, disdainful… almost bored. As if the man who clutched a dagger at my throat were bothering him with some kind of insignificant detail, a trivial comment.

"Put the knife down, and we can talk like _civilized_," he emphasized the word, "human beings." Was it just me, or was there a hint of irony in his jaded tone?

Silence.

"I don't think so," I felt the arms around me spasm, squeezing more tightly. I gasped from lack of oxygen, yet too afraid to struggle. "You see, _Edward,_ yes I do know your name; I don't quite trust you. I'm afraid I don't quite trust your intentions either. If _she's _out of danger, what's stopping you from keeping me around, alive and in one piece? And I ask myself, would I like to suffer a mysteriously, tragically young demise? Well," he chuckled morbidly, the echoes sending chills up my rigid spine, "I'm fairly certain you know the answer yourself."

Something like annoyance, then a harsh pain, passed fleetingly over Edward's pale features before it returned to the carefully constructed semblance. Something about him, kneeling in the dark, in all the muck of the city, and yet devastatingly beautiful as ever, sent another wave of chills through my fragile body. Now, captured in the oppressing blackness, there was something cold, something feral, something less _human_ about Edward. As if, though he had built a mask for the benefit of my captor, he was also revealing another facet of himself unintentionally.

"Do you want me to kill her, here an now, just so you will talk? Or," he paused, warm breath whispering near my ear, "would her screaming prove a more…_useful_, stimulant?"

The cold metal of the knife was slowly dragged over the exposed flesh of my throat, slicing the tender skin. A wave of horror swept through me, the feel of my sticky, dripping blood all over my throat my initial concern. But that consideration was erased almost immediately by a searing pain, lancing from the wound. I gasped, tears welling in my eyes, running down my cheeks in a burning wave. They dropped to mix with my blood.

Blood and tears.

I felt faint, dizzy. If I had been weak before, it was nothing compared to now. All the strength seemed to have been leeched from my already diminished muscles, leaving me limp.

I opened my eyes, blinking away the aggravating moisture. I sought Edward's silhouette through the gloom, begging him with my eyes.

But his face wasn't even turned towards my own.

Shoulders rigged, he kneeled, as if fighting a cataclysmic battle with himself. His face was turned downwards, scrutinizing the lichen covered cobblestones. It almost looked as he were swallowing convulsively, biting the inside of his cheek.

A terrible moment latter, his shoulders relaxed.

Edward looked up, somehow even more separated from myself than before. The dark, endless pools of his eyes were cold, holding no anger, no sympathy… _nothing._

I shivered, unable to stop myself. The icy breath of fear seeped slowly through my veins, blinding rational thought. For the first time since I had been captured, I was truly, sincerely afraid.

I didn't at all understand the game he was playing.

"Well," my captor snarled, his deep voice irate. "Are you going to answer?"

"I don't see why I should."

Edward's answer was slow, deliberate; no hint of artifice or guile in either his tone or his eyes. Just that cold, uncaring void.

The breath exited my lungs abruptly, leaving me gasping for the damp, odiferous air.

_What?_

My assaulter's thoughts must have been similar to my own.

"You mean to say, you don't see why you should answer when I have a_ knife_ pressed against the throat of your dearly beloved?" He sneered. "Is the picture that unclear to you?"

"I can see just as well as anyone else," Edward snapped, voice venomous, and yet peculiarly empty. "I simply meant to say, I don't see any _incentive_ to let you in on my family's secrets."

A thunderstruck silence followed.

I felt more fiery tears leak from my inflamed eyes. But this time, they weren't because of the pain.

A cruel, almost sadistic smile played on Edward's flawless lips. "You honestly think I was taking care of her," he spared a brief, hard glance in my direction, "for my _own_ pleasure?"

"If you didn't, then why did you go to such great pains to protect her?"

Edward's dark eyes rolled towards the hauntingly shining heavens, as if seeking tolerance from their velvety expanses. Answering, he talked with exaggerated patience, as if a teacher to a dull-witted student that didn't understand something he had explained multiple times. "It's quite simple, really. She knew things. Things that I needed to know. Things that we couldn't just leave in the hands of those whose attention we didn't wish to attract." He paused his icy speech for a moment, as if considering. "Though, she has begun to run the course of her usefulness. I was already considering… _disposing _of her soon. Though if you wish to do it for me…"

I stared at him in numbed disbelief.

Where was the godlike person who had cared so much? Where was the bashful person who had admitted, just a few minutes ago, that he loved me?

Who was this cold, sadistic stranger, playing with people for his own benefit? Had that side of him been there the entire time?

Had the entire thing been an act to gain my confidence?

_He doesn't love you. _

The words came to me, crashing through every luminescent, shining, sugar spun dream I had recently constructed. They shattered my sense, my hope, moving on to shake my very being.

Ice ran through my veins like cold syrup, my body protesting with every heartbeat.

_He doesn't love you._

For a moment, the ugly thought was ethereal, preposterous. Of course he cared about me, of course his entire family cared about me. They had helped me, providing me with asylum, safety. Welcoming me with open arms, filling the void of darkness that had lingered near my heart since my father's death.

But here in the darkness, feelings my own death pressing coldly, impersonally against my throat, I felt the flickerings of doubt.

_Why would he want me? It's not like he can't do better, not like his entire family couldn't have practically any whim, with their power and wealth. Why would they need you?_

_But did they really lie to you for so long? _

I felt something catch in my throat, making the feat of inhaling altogether impossible. The feeling seeped slowly out of my limbs, leaving me numbed and empty.

"_You honestly think I was taking care of her for my _own_ pleasure?"_

"_Though, she has begun to run the course of her usefulness. I was already considering… _disposing_ of her soon. Though if you wish to do it for me…"_

His silky, velveteen voice replayed the words over and over again in my head, rendering the heartlessly cold words even more mocking.

Not only did he not care about me personally, he didn't even care about my _existence_.

As a last attempt, a fleeting thought of hope, a desperate attempt to believe this was all a facade, I gazed into Edward's eyes, shadowed in the gloom, and flinched from what I found there.

_Absolute sincerity. _

Suddenly, the night was much darker. Suddenly the harsh shadows that had appeared only mildly threatening before twisted and warped into a sickly, sinister presence. Suddenly, the stars were much darker, their radiance muted as if someone held a piece of dark cloth across the heavens.

Suddenly, the fiery red dripping down my neck, saturating my clothing didn't matter. Suddenly, I almost couldn't even feel the hot stickiness of my own blood; suddenly I couldn't feel the warmth of my tears dripping down my contorted face.

And suddenly, the knife pressed perilously close to my throat wasn't such a bad thing.

A dark, gaping cavity seemed to engulf my body, erasing all rational thoughts and feelings entirely, obscuring any shred of logic still left to my battered body.

I was just… _empty_. Devoid of all feeling except a horrible, crushing grief. A grief that threatened to compress the very life out my body. What life that was left, at least.

I was drowning, falling through dark waters. It was cold, terribly cold, lost in an endless black ocean. And the sunrise was so far off, so far that it didn't seem as if it would ever come.

Perhaps it wouldn't.

I wasn't aware that my captor's strangling grasp had loosened, was naive to the fact that the wicked dagger had dropped a few inches. If I had been, maybe I would have realized he was in almost as much shock as I was.

But I didn't know, didn't realize. Because it just didn't matter.

"_Though, she has begun to run the course of her usefulness. I was already considering… _disposing_ of her soon. Though if you wish to do it for me…"_

_Go ahead_, I thought suddenly, fiercely. _Go ahead, kill me. Gloat over my body, see how much I care. I have already had everything else ripped from me. Compared to that, what is my life? _

The cold, vile darkness seemed to have stopped the time around me.

I wanted to see him one more time, see the face of my beautiful betrayer. Oh, he had ensnared me as easy as any unsuspecting bug in a spider's web. And was that all I was to him?

I wanted to feel angry, feel hatred for the one who had spun the web of lies so well.

But the chasm inside of myself wouldn't let me. Wouldn't let me feel anything but an icy blanket of anguish.

_I _wouldn't let me.

And in the depths of that menacing ocean, I felt the lightest, faintest touch of warmth.

I couldn't hate him. I couldn't hate him for the simple reason that I loved him, had loved him since I had met him.

And I would love him until the final breath left my body. Whether that was in a couple of seconds, as it seemed it would be, or in a hundred years.

Vaguely, I felt a sense of deep astonishment. I shouldn't love him, not after what he had done.

_But I will always love Edward. Even if he was my betrayer, even if he was the tool in my destruction. _

And with that silent, unexpected revelation, I felt ready to die. I was ready to surrender my life to the dark grasp of death, even here in this cold, impersonal back alley. Even here, when no one would know what had ever happened to me. When no one would probably note my absence.

I closed my eyes.

Then there was a shriek of rage, of frustration, of anger at being so thoroughly deceived, sounding near my ear. The iron grasp around my body convulsed, as if shaken from unseen tremors.

And there, in the background, was a deep, guttural snarl. A sound that wasn't human, that held such deep layers of hate and revulsion, it chilled me to my already frozen core.

Abruptly, there was a an echoing thump, something buffeting by me, the cold edge of the knife pressing close to my trachea, and then a sick crunch. A force hit me, bowling me over backwards. My head hit the cobblestones with a dull, painful thud.

I could feel more blood trickling down my neck, fiery from a fresh slice.

The world was swirling in an oppressing darkness, one I couldn't fight. Vaguely, I wondered if my throat had been slit, if the last remnants of energy draining from my body were flowing out with the blood from my throat. I hazily asked myself if I was dying.

But I still didn't know the answer to that question before the cold darkness fully engulfed me.

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**Edward's lying, isn't he? But if he was, why did he lie, why would he intentionally hurt Bella like that? And what hit her? Did the knife really slice deep enough???**

**Questions, so many questions. Or at least, I hope there are; maybe that means I'm doing my "job" correctly. **

**As I mentioned before, I should be able to update by Tuesday (no joking). **

**Until then,**

**Lon-Dubh**


	21. Chapter 20: Demolition

**I'm so sorry this is late. But I was in a fairly creative mood while writing it, so I didn't want to stop. I considered ending the chapter roughly halfway through what ended up being the current chapter, but I've been rather cruel about cliffhangers lately. So you got a trade: a delay for an extra five pages. I thought it was pretty fair…**

**Enjoy!**

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**Edward's Point of View:**

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I leaned over the warped railing of the dilapidated lookout, cold fingers resting on my temples, as I had often seen humans when they had a headache. The frigid air whispered with dark clarity in my ears, wafting the scents of the city to my sensitive nose.

Emmett would be waiting for me, I knew, as well as Jasper. Neither would be pleased to be kept under the city's piers for any longer than was strictly necessary; the docks were the cesspool of the city.

But neither could have possibly anticipated what a fiasco this night had become.

And the one person who could have possibly predicted how the night would unfurl stood next to me, her thoughts flying chaotically through her head.

_Should have Seen… Was it a snap decision? I don't understand… At least Isabella will be fine. But she'll have questions when she wakes up… He won't be able put off telling her the truth any longer… But why didn't I See? _

"Alice, enough," I growled, feeling as if I might truly get a headache. I turned to glare at her, my hands clenched tightly at the rails. It felt as if the twisted wood should snap under the pressure I exerted, but it held firm under my stone grasp.

The sky was still fully dark, stars shining weekly through the thin shroud of clouds wiling the velvet heavens. It was even darker here, past the outskirts of the city. In the distance, I could clearly make out the glow of the lights, the sharp outline of structures against the horizon. But everything had a curious edge of numbness, making me view the world through a hazed image. Even Alice's pale face seemed dimmed, muted in the cold gloom.

_You need to go, Edward. Emmett's already annoyed with you. Not to mention the insignificant fact that this won't work as effectively in daylight. _

I straightened, preparing the leave. "Did Jasper and Emmett take care of… the details?" My voice sounded peculiarly rough, but I didn't pause to think on it.

Alice didn't need clarification. "Yes," she sighed, soprano voice uncharacteristically somber. Carlisle isn't going to be pleased though…"

"Carlisle knows the situation, he knows what's necessary" I snapped, nerves already frayed. I flinched almost imperceptibly when I heard the responding melancholy thoughts of my sister. Pausing, I drew in another breath of fresh air. My temper was dangerously close to the surface, far to close to deal with a night like this one would be. Releasing my iron hold from the railings of the balcony, I strived to control my temper. Emotions raged within me like a dark tempest, each warring with the other for dominance.

_Anger, hatred, guilt, regret, depression… and love. _

For a moment, I wished Jasper was here. I yearned for the serenity his presence always conveyed. But I knew that a brief period of blissful calm wouldn't dampen the torrent of emotions held within me.

"I'm sorry Alice. I just…" I didn't have the words I needed to explain.

Alice's thin face broke out in a bright smile. Her teeth flashed in the dull moonlight, her dark eyes sparkling. "I know, Edward." I never had to explain to_ this_ sister, at least.

I turned towards the doorway. The high room was perched on the withering frame of the ancient tower perilously, the creaking wood seemed to be too weak to hold one person's weight, let alone three. But Alice had assured me the lookout wouldn't collapse, at least not during our short tenure.

It was cold, even inside the room. The faded brown walls were bare of any adornment, save for thin fractures that stretched across the wooden planks. All of the weapons, the other equipment that had once stood here had been removed in ages past.

The moonlight lanced through the doorframe in a soft, silver glow, vaguely illuminating the stark room. A pile of thick, woolen blankets lay in a neat, makeshift mattress in the corner of the room. Buried securely in that pile of cloth lie my angel.

My eyes fell over her prone form, and I felt my dead heart tighten and loosen simultaneously.

I had been so scared tonight, far more scared than I had ever let on. If my heart hadn't already stopped centuries ago, it would have surely when that… _man _held that cold metal against the smooth, tender skin of her throat.

I had been dark to her eyes, though not to mine. Even the murky, fetid alleyways of the city hadn't fazed my euphoric mood. Even the fact that my angel was too weak to walk hadn't overly concerned me. She was in my arms. Where for once, she could be held, could be cherished, could be protected.

Sometimes, I would look into her deep, guileless eyes, and see deep shadows. Sometimes I would wonder how much she had truly endured. How aged she really was. Not in years. Time means little, in some senses. I speculated how old she was mentally. How old she was emotionally.

And sometimes, I felt afraid of the answer.

Young humans going through traumatic experiences could be scarred for the rest of their life. I had seen it happen far too often for one lifetime. Even for one eternal lifetime.

And I felt my heart twist when I wondered if my angel felt an age greater than her years. I wondered if she would heal, in time.

I dared to hope I would be the one to help her heal. That I would be the one to hold her, to comfort her.

But until tonight, I had been petrified of voicing that thought aloud. I hadn't wanted myself to feel the disappointment of rejection; for rejection was surely the only thing I could receive.

But she loved me as well.

Oh yes, tonight had held a glorious, almost ephemeral beauty. But it was also marred by the dark shroud of what else had occurred.

She had still been vaguely conscious when I had ran her to the rendezvous we had determined earlier. Still coherent enough to be startled by my seemingly impossible feat. But that didn't matter; all that mattered was her safety, getting her to Carlisle as quickly as possible.

A part of me rejoiced at the thought of no longer having to deceive her, no longer having to lie. For her to know who I truly was… I longed for that release. And I feared it.

What if she couldn't accept me? What if she couldn't accept what I had done?

I reached out, quietly, in the darkness. Isabella's hair was splayed around her head like a glorious halo, gleaming softly in the moonlight. Dark eyelashes framed her closed eyes, her full lips parted slightly in sleep. Isabella's skin held an unnatural pallor, nearly as white as my own. I felt a twinge of anxiety as I compared her appearance now the rest of the times I had seen her, all catalogued in crystalline clarity in my memory. I frowned apprehensively as I realized her skin was a shade or two too pale. Though, she had lost a great deal of blood…

The thought wrenched me back into my brooding.

_Her blood…._

Oh, it had smelled delicious. So terribly appetizing, almost as much so as it had when I first smelled her… Floral. Lavender, almost freesia… Even the thought was enough to make me clench my hands tightly together, blunted fingernails digging into my palms. It was enough to make my stomach twist in horror, while at the same time made my throat burn with an animal frenzy, a primal desire…

Even now, I hadn't perfected my control. Even centuries after my rebirth, I wasn't immune. I had considered myself strong, almost infallible. But never as in control as Carlisle. Before I had met Isabella, I had begun the feel the feral urges within me fade, recede.

But the scent of her, that first time, was enough to shatter my hopeful illusions and leave me reeling._ I_, who had spent centuries of tortuous effort to control myself, thwarted by a mere human girl.

My first sight of her had left me reeling in shock and confusion, in more ways than one.

And my feelings had grown for her since then.

I allowed my icy fingers to trace the lines marring her milky throat. It had been smooth, flawless, just a few hours ago. But I had let go of her, had left her unprotected. That simple response, that seemingly innocuous action, had almost taken her from me permanently.

There had been two men in the gloom of the alleyways. I had picked up the thoughts of one, had stalked his vile scent through the darkness. The resemblance to the life I had once led, years and years ago, had come back to me with an uncanny force of déjà vu. The scene had so resembled my rebellious years, it had shocked me.

But not enough to let my guard down.

The man I had stalked through the gloom had been disposed of easily, so easily. His silent death disconcerted me slightly. It had been a long time since I had taken human life, and the ease of which I now did it startled me.

But even the thought of him being a threat to Isabella… It had been enough for me to push aside any moral convictions. Had been enough for me to allow the predator within myself resurface enough to deal with his presence silently, efficiently.

I would do anything to protect my Isabella, my angel.

Even break her heart.

My cold hands passed over her throat, tracing the cuts lightly. Isabella inhaled deeply, her full lips curling slightly, as if in a smile. I felt my heart melt. And harden.

_Will she forgive me, once she awakes?_

Looking back, I realized that I had possessed no other options. But it had broken my heart, perhaps even more thoroughly than hers, as I had lied. Had allowed the most vile untruths to flow, seamlessly, from my lips. Had died inside as I acted out my charade.

I Had felt the hurt when I saw her eyes. Had felt the blow as if it had physically stricken me.

And I wondered if I could possibly bear to do the same thing again.

By the time I had disposed of the first man, the other had the knife pressed against her vulnerable throat. I had been short sighted, incredibly foolish, not to sense the other man's presence. And it had cost me, and my angel, so very dearly.

So I had quickly picked up the dagger the slain man lying crumpled with a broken neck at my feet had carried.

By that time, it was too late even to risk using my superhuman speed. I would have, would have in an instant; regardless of the fact that Isabella had no inkling of my darker side. It would be worth any consequence to spare her life.

But I had picked up the thoughts of her captor. He was nervous, though he put on an incredibly good front, almost as good as my own. Even a twitch from my direction, he would have slit her throat. I was fast, faster than any in my family. But I had been petrified with an icy fear.

What if I wasn't fast enough? What if my overconfidence cost Isabella her life?

I had known then that I would never forgive myself, not if I lived for another hundred thousand years.

And so I knew what I had to do.

Her captor's twisted thoughts were full of assumptions, correct assumptions. That I cared about Isabella, cared deeply. Which wasn't far off the mark. I loved her much more than he suspected.

But he was banking on the fact that I cared.

So I couldn't care.

Or at least, I had to pretend I didn't.

So I had broken the heart of an angel.

But at least I didn't have to see her, cold, lifeless. Though the warm tears running down her smooth cheeks crashed into my body like a chilling tidal wave, at least I didn't have to cradle her lifeless body in my arms. At least I didn't have to bury her: as I had for so many others.

And even if she wouldn't, _couldn't_, forgive me, I wouldn't have any regrets. Her life was far too precious to squander in the dark alleyways of a godforsaken city like this one.

The scent of the warm, horribly appetizing blood running fresh from her throat, had almost thrown me into sheer instinct. Had almost been enough to obliterate all sense of logic, all sense of any shreds of humanity I still carried in my dead body. I had been close. I was so very close to snapping.

But I hadn't.

And every moment, I thanked any higher power was out there for that much of a blessing.

It would have been torture for me to see Isabella dead. To have known I could have protected her, could have done more. But if I had killed my angel myself… it would have been so far past the worst pain of the worst torture that I shuddered to even think of it. Shied away from realizing, that if I had killed her, I wouldn't have survived myself.

My fate was entwined with hers now. For better or for worse.

It had shook me, rattled me, how unprepared I had been. How shortsighted, how blind. And it terrified me, chilled me with a peculiar intensity as I fully grasped the fact how close my foolish shortcomings had very nearly cost. And how much they did still weigh on my shoulders.

Even now, I felt a strange cascade of despair, guilt, and hatred as I softly caressed Isabella's throat, lightly traced the scars that marred the milky skin. She was just as beautiful as ever. But now I had to see the physical manifestations of the price she paid for being involved with me; for even being _near_ me.

Watching her, so peaceful in sleep, was heaven and hell simultaneously.

"Edward, she'll be fine. Carlisle already checked her over, the cuts are shallow. You have a doctor's diagnosis and a clairvoyant's second opinion. What more do you need?" Alice spoke softly, glibly. Her eyes were dark, holding the same fire of life I usually found there. "Emmett and Jasper could always knock some sense into you… literally. And Emmett isn't far off from seriously considering that option at the moment…."

I straightened, wincing as the ancient floorboards creaked in protest. I turned towards my sister, her slight form blending in with the drab shadows. "You'll look after her?"

Alice rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You already know I will, Edward. Besides," she continued with the ghost of a smile, "what are sisters for?"

"Besides reminding me, rather rudely, to leave?"

"There's that too."

I sighed in defeat. There was no use postponing the inevitable. The future would eventually catch up to your present. I would know more than most.

"Very well." I shot one last glance at Alice, now folding herself gracefully to the dingy floor. Her eyes flashed quickly to mine, filled with annoyance. Not waiting for another rebuke, I exited the lookout that had become a haven. Her irate thoughts followed me on my way out.

The night was chilled, even to my icy skin. Chiding myself for the absent thoughts that stalked me, I forced myself to pay attention. Tonight wasn't a good time to pick for a distraction.

Even if I hadn't known the exact location of the docks, I could have very easily followed the smell to its source. The city was dim, the majority of its citizens safely asleep.

They were in for a rude awakening.

Slipping noisily through her shadows with the ease of long practice, my sharp eyes discerned every detail laid before me through the oppressive gloom. My senses seemed hyperactive, even for a vampire.

At last my solitary trek through the alleyways came to an end. The ocean spread out before me, its dark waters melding seamlessly with the black horizon. The gentle crash of the surf and the pungent odor of salt reached me long before I reached it.

My forehead wrinkling in distaste, I slowly lowered myself below the pier, almost at the same location Emmett and I had convened so long ago. Of course, it really wasn't that much time, not for two people who had lived for centuries. But somehow, it seemed an eternity separated myself from that night's dark watch.

Perhaps it was simply my altering perception.

Or perhaps because, this time at least, the crushing feeling of despair didn't hover over my shoulders. Perhaps it was because something shone brilliantly through that blanketing dark.

The waters were frigid, a sharp reminder of my motive. Scanning the area with my thoughts rather than my eyes, I grimaced. Alice hadn't lied about my brother's being… disgruntled.

"He showed up. I think we should commemorate the occasion." Emmett's bass voice sounded through the rumble of the water, his thoughts warring between annoyance and amusement.

I glared in Emmett's general direction, ignoring the mental thought processes rather distinctly aimed at myself. Deliberately paying no heed to his irked presence, I turned towards Jasper. "Is every thing ready?"

He nodded mutely, eyes flashing inquisitively to me, not bothering to answer aloud. Hearing the mental query, I answered without him voicing the question.

"I was… held up," I responded, voice clipped. Scowling at both of their candid mental responses, I turned to inspect the withering wooden framework above me. "I'll explain later."

The boards were dark and faded, their surface smoothed in the face of brutal storms. Nestled at the joints where the pylons met the walkways were small packages. They carried a very distinctive smell. One that jolted me to the past. Gunpowder.

"It's dry?" I asked, voice a mere whisper.

Emmett snorted, not bothering to conceal his tone. "Yes, no thanks to you. We already ran all of the fuses between each." I winced slightly at the concealed delight in his voice. My bear-like brother was very much anticipating seeing our final act of vandalism concluded. Though, in his thoughts, he phrased the situation with the expression _finale_.

Though I suppose, in a twisted way, it was.

"Alright. Emmett will take care of the pier on the left of this one; I'll take the one of the right." Jasper spoke for the first time tonight, his eyes flickering uneasily in the general periphery of the city. "Let's get this over with."

"_Let's get this over with_?" Emmett repeated verbatim, his deep tone incredulous. "You can't seriously say you aren't going to enjoy this. _Either_ of you," his dark eyes flashed in my direction. "It's not every day even _we_ get to do something like this."

"Emmett," I growled, my voice muted by the roll of the surf. "This is a job, we have to be careful. No evidence."

"I know my orders as well as you, dear brother of mine." Emmett turned, his hulking form dimming what slivers of moonlight reached us here. I shifted uncomfortably, not at all relishing the grating feel of brine against my skin. "Trust me, there's not going to be enough _left_ for evidence."

Jasper and I cast corresponding glances at each other, both silently amused with our brother's peculiar sense of humor. I watched as both moved to their positions, fighting through the frigid undertow.

The sound of the sea slapping against the wharves was the only melody. The entire world seemed muted around us. "Careful," I hissed, my comment aimed at Emmett.

He turned to me halfway, broad face cast into shadow. "I'm the soul of discretion, Edward."

I snorted, not deigning to reply.

Briefly, I allowed my mind to wander. To one person in particular.

Despite what Alice's reassurances, it was difficult not to spend every moment brooding of Isabella, and whether she would forgive me. The thought of her rejection slashed a ragged hole through my heart. Of course, I deserved anything she would say to me.

I brusquely rebuked myself, sternly urging myself to think of only the present. It wasn't an easy task.

Swiftly, I reached inside of my shirt, drawing out a match. The sharp scent of sulfur helped clear my head.

"On the count of three," Jasper's tenor voice carried clearly through the dominating gloom.

"Demolition of the docks commencing," I faintly heard Emmett snigger, in glee and anticipation emanating from his thoughts. "When was the last time we destroyed something this big?"

Neither Jasper or I condescended to answer.

"One," his voice rang through the night. I shifted, holding to match near the wooden pier. Squinting, I eased myself closer to the fuse.

"Two," Jasper called, voice rising to be heard over the growl of the waves. Two points of light abruptly illuminated through the gloom, contrasting sharply with the former blackness. Quickly, I struck the match, the thin object immediately bursting into a brilliant flame.

"Three." Quickly, I lit the fuse, backpedaling the moment I reassured myself it had caught fire. Following my brothers' examples, I streaked through the water, reaching the shore before the fireworks began. Literally.

A loud boom and earsplitting crunch had me wincing. Suddenly, the horizon was etched in a brilliant light.

"Awesome," Emmett crowed, face exultant, deriving some kind of perverse pleasure from the sight of the entire docks in flames.

Almost immediately following the blaze and the ruckus, alarm bells began to toll throughout the city.

"We should go," I warned, faintly catching the tenor of the Guard's thoughts.

Jasper nodded, following me quickly into the darkness.

I had gained a faint amount of pleasure from our demolition. Of course, I would never admit anything of the sort to my incorrigible brother.

But now, I only had one thought predominant in my mind.

We quickly made our way through the city, passing by the dodgy outskirts without comment.

After another few moments of complete silence, Emmett couldn't resist speaking again.

"Even_ you_, Edward," Emmett flashed a wide grin with his flawless teeth, gleaming menacingly in the moonlight, "had to admit that was the best act of civil destruction we've committed in ages."

"Nothing beats blowing things up, huh Emmett?" Jasper's tone was sarcastic, but I caught more than a faint trace of amusement and consensus.

Sometimes, I couldn't help but appreciate Emmett's raw enjoyment of life; even this existence of eternal darkness. Despite all else, I was typically unconcerned to listen to his thoughts.

"Well…" Disturbing images of Rosalie flashed briefly through his mind.

I swiftly took back my earlier, kinder, sentiment.

"Emmett!" I snarled, voice piercing through the soft darkness like a whip.

"Well, okay," he conceded, another round of mirth rising to surface. "But blowing things up is definitely a close second."

----------------------------

**This had a bit more fluff than most of my chapter do; I just couldn't resist putting Emmett into the scene… **

**What will Bella's reaction be when she awakens? Of course, we might assume she'll be understanding. But how will she take being lied to for almost an entire year? Or how will she react when she realizes that Edward was lying; and that he's a bloodsucking mythical creature?**

**Not so many chapters left, I'm sad to say. Of course, an Edward and Bella scene, and a bit more action concerning Bella evening the score for her rough treatment from her former masters…. **

**I might be able to update by Monday, but I'm currently swamped in applying for course schedules for next year. (My school really seems to have issues with letting people into their A.P. programs… Oh, well…)**

**Until then, **

**Lon-Dubh**


	22. Chapter 21: Light

**I know it has been a very, _very _long time. For all of you who waited (patiently or not) for me, I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you. I am genuinely sorry for my long absence, and I will do all I can to make it up to everyone who helped and encouraged me.**

**This chapter is a bit longer than usual, but then, I have a lot to make up for :) I should have the next chapter our within a week or so. **

**Enjoy!**

**----------------------------------------------**

The first thing I was aware of was pain.

Of course, there was more than one kind.

There was the vicious bite of physical pain all over my body. My arms and legs felt… empty. I'm not sure I would move them, even if I had wanted to. An unpleasant ache was centered on my neck, and my head felt like someone had hit it with a pickaxe.

It took me a moment to realize_ why_. Then another pain, far more potent, reared up to engulf me in its cold, icy arms.

He doesn't love me. _Of course_, I told myself viciously, _why _should_ he? Did you really expect it to last? You expected that feeling to last, years ago with Dad, and look what happened then. Did you really think this would be so different?_

I'm not sure what I thought. But I know what I had hoped.

I didn't want to open my eyes. Some part of me, a large part actually, just longed for the darkness I felt now to extend on into eternity. I wanted to feel the bliss of that total, unknowing release. I just wanted to forget…

Another, dryer part of my mind chided me. _You survived before. You can again. _

_But I don't want to!_ I snapped back at it, willing it to remain silent. Of course, it didn't.

_You promised. And if you don't have that left, what do you have? _

All in all, I was getting tired of having arguments…. with myself.

I don't know how long I just lay there, unmoving. Long enough that my muscles ached in protest because of the complete lack of movement. Long enough that it occurred to me to wonder where I was.

When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I processed was the darkness, broken by the faintest traces of early dawn that were falling on the floor. I was warm, uncomfortably so, tucked beneath a pile of expertly woven blankets. It was too dark for me to truly make out my surroundings, but I could tell the room I lay in was sparsely furnished. It felt too big. Too empty.

It took me a moment to wonder how I had gotten there. Why wasn't I still lying on a cold street on the outskirts of the city? I was here… warm, and relatively safe, as far as I knew.

My hand flew up to feel my throat. There was a bandage placed neatly over where I knew the dagger had dug into the tender flesh of my throat. Why….

My thoughts collided messily with each other, each vying for my limited attention. Mysteries swirled in my head, unanswered questions clamored to be answered. I frowned, trying to narrow down my mental list.

What had happened last night? Besides Edward admitting…. I stopped myself hastily. I didn't want or need to think about that right now. Everything had happened so quickly. I wasn't sure where I was or how I had gotten here; or more importantly, who had bothered?

Other thoughts nagged at my consciousness. Questions I had asked myself long before now. What exactly _were _the Cullens? There hadn't been a moment since I had met them that I had doubted that they weren't exactly _human_.

But more powerful than all of the unanswered questions was the almost unbearable urge to bury myself under the soft blankets and allow my anguish to take me. I didn't want to think, didn't want to wonder. In the past months I had been stupid. I had allowed myself to hope, to grow attached to people. I wondered when I would learn my lesson. Maybe I wouldn't live long enough to learn anything…

I shook my head impatiently, instantly regretted it as my headache throbbed with more force than before. Suddenly, I had to get up, to move.

I clumsily climbed to my feet, wincing as my stomach and what felt like every muscle in my body screamed in protest. The floor was chilled and smooth beneath my feet, polished from the countless other people who undoubtedly trod here. I made my way to the window, squinting through the slowly fading darkness.

A cold wind brushed against my face, ushering the scent of…. grass? I frowned. It smelled fresh, untarnished. Almost like home had smelled…. Tears filled my eyes unbidden. Angrily, I brushed them away, groaning as my arm ached with even that small effort.

Fields, lush even in the gloom, filled my vision. There were no other buildings in sight, and their absence made me feel strangely exposed. I obviously wasn't anywhere near the city any longer. I frowned again as the persistent question of _how_ I had gotten here drifted back into my head.

But looking across the vast expanse of land, unmarred by human blemishes, I felt a sudden release, as if a great burden that I had been unaware of was lifted from my shoulders. Though I could see the first, glimmering rays of the rising sun, a dusky light still engulfed the landscape. The wind that blew across it, causing the rolling hills of grass to gently sway, seemed to whisper comfortingly to me. It was… peaceful.

I sighed, closing my eyes. For a moment, I allowed myself to forget everything. Just remember the pleasant things….

But Edward's face, his devastatingly, inhumanly perfect face obstinately filled my vision. I could see the way his eyes scorched into my own, the way his lips curved into a crooked smile when he was amused. How he had once smiled at me…Tears bloomed under my eyelids, making angry, hot streaks down my face.

"Isabella?" The voice was soft, musical, lilting. It was velvet, silk brushing against marble. It would have been impossible for me to not recognize it.

The breath caught in my throat as I turned around to face him.

"Edward," I said, my voice rough. With sudden embarrassment I wiped the rebellious tears from my cheeks. It was irrational, but I suddenly felt mortified at my tangled hair, my dirty clothes.

He was more beautiful than my memories of him, of course. Eyes brighter, skin smoother. Slight wrinkles were etched into his forehead, as if he were worried. Compared with the rest of his appearance, they looked wrong. Out of place as an ugly smudge on the face of the statue of a Greek god. I felt the sudden, irrational urge to touch his forehead, smooth the worry from his face.

My breath caught in my throat as I viciously told myself to stop fantasizing. If anything, I should be afraid. He had insinuated that he wouldn't have any moral qualms about my murder, after all…

He took a hesitant step towards me, eyes tortured. Instead of backing away from him, I wanted to run towards him, embrace him.

His steps were slow and hesitant, as if he were being careful not to startle me. "You should sit down," he murmured, brows furrowed. "Carlisle says that you will be weak for a while. You should be resting." He was finally within arms length of me, and he reached toward me. Abruptly he paused, eyes anxious. He pulled his outstretched hand away, lips turning down unhappily.

_I should be running away,_ I though wildly. Just hours ago, this boy had callously discussed my death with the stranger who was threatening to kill me himself. He had lied to me for almost a year. Pretended he cared… _I _shouldn't care. If anything, I should be scared. But I wasn't. More than anything, I wanted my fantasy to continue. I wanted to take his hand, as I would have just days ago.

I followed him to where I was lying just minutes before, though. He curled himself sinuously to the ground, looking up at me expectantly. But his gaze held something else though, something I couldn't quite identify. Was if fear?

Easing myself down onto the blankets, I bit my lip to keep myself from gasping in pain. Edward's sharp eyes caught to involuntary movement, and a frowned. "Are you alright?"

I stared at him and for a second, I felt the insane urge to laugh. "Should I be?" My voice was still rough, a nightmare in comparison with his silky tone. I wondered idly if he was here to kill me. Why hadn't he done so already? The charade was up, after all. No more need to act, no more need to pretend.

He dropped his eyes, face twisting into such an agonized expression I would have though he had been physically injured. "Isabella," he began, eyes still surveying the floor. "I… I have so much to tell you. Such my I should have said before." His voice trailed off, and he turned to look at me.

"I owe you an apology. I owe you so much more than that… When I saw that man, about to kill you… I panicked. I made myself do whatever was necessary to ensure that you would be alright." He took a deep breathe, eyes scorching into my own. I looked at him, completely nonplussed. "I lied, Isabella. I lied to that man to save you."

"You… lied?" My voice was strangled, my thoughts in a confused garble. What did he mean, he lied?

He must have seen the confusion in my eyes. And the doubt. The agony in his eyes hardened, solidified. A choked laugh, that still somehow sounded like the lilt of music, escaped his flawless lips. "You believe the lies, and yet not the truth."

"I don't think I understand."

"Isabella, before that man came, before you almost died," he stumbled over the word, "I told you that I loved you. And then, I wasn't lying. I told that despicable, monstrous man something that I knew would surprise him, something that would lower his guard. So I could save you. My greatest regret is that I caused you pain in the process." He spoke swiftly, eyes flashing with a dangerous, almost feral light as he spoke of my capturer. He glanced away for a moment, composing his face. His eyes, when he turned back to me, burned intensely. "What I told you was the very worst kind of lie, the blackest sacrilege. I love you."

His words shocked me, made me feel like I was floating. Doubt still covered my mind, like the thick fog that hung over the city some mornings. How could he love me? What was it about _me_ that he could possibly care….

My eyes narrowed as I considered one of my earlier questions.

"You're still lying to me, Edward," I replied, voice low. "I don't know if I understand what you just told me," I continued on as I saw his face darken. He opened his mouth furiously to interrupt. "But you're still lying to me about your whole family. About who you are."

The light was steadily improving. Now I could see the earthy color of the room, the deep blue of the blankets we sat on. I could also see a spark of panic ignite in his eyes.

"Edward," my voice broke a little when I said his name. Tears pricked rebelliously against my eyes, and I blinked them away quickly. "I want to believe you. I want to believe you more than anything… But how can I, when I know that you're still not being honest?"

Edward exhaled, closing his eyes. Even from here, I would smell the sweet, impossibly alluring aroma of his breath. He ran a pale hand through his tousled bronze hair, seeming to battle with himself.

"I didn't want to be dishonest with you. But one of the reasons I didn't tell you was that… I was afraid." He opened his eyes, looking towards me pleadingly. Dozens of emotions battled in his eyes. And I could see that fear he had spoken of.

"What were you afraid of?" I whispered.

A sour, cynical laugh escaped his lips. I frowned, I didn't like its sound. "What was I afraid of? I was afraid that you could never care for me, that you would no longer even want to be _near_ me. I didn't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me," I said impulsively. But the moment to words escaped my lips, I knew they were true. I was far too much in love with him. Dangerously so, unhealthily so. I cared for him with a deep, burning passion I would not have known I was capable of. And despite his words, despite anything he could ever say to me, I would always love him. I would always want to be with him, no matter what he was, if he would only want _me_…

I leaned closer to Edward, desperately wanting to believe what he told me. My hand closed around his icy fingers. For a moment, I wondered if he would jerk away. But he sighed, leaning closer towards me. "I want you to tell me," I said, my voice slow and firm.

There was a long pause. Silence reigned. The faint whoosh of the wind and the creaking of the structure we sat in were the only sounds. I looked at Edward in concern that began to border on alarm. His pale, flawless face was perfectly smooth, yet somehow tortured. It looked like he wasn't even breathing.

"Edward," I prompted gently.

He finally looked at me, golden eyes curiously… resigned. "You deserve to know," he conceded. Slowly, he leaned away from me. I frowned at the ache I felt as he withdrew his icy hand from mine. "My family and I are… vampires."

"You're _what_?"

His eyes looked surprised, then understanding. "I suppose it isn't so startling that you don't know. I haven't heard any myths about our kind for years. Vampires, Isabella, are monsters."

Suddenly, I was angry. "I don't believe that." This time, it was his turn to stare at me in shock. I continued vehemently, "You and your family… you're the best people I've ever met. You could _never _be a monster," I said, voice low.

"We drink _blood_, Isabella. Do you understand that I could murder you, right now, as easily as you could swat a fly? Do you realize that part of me very much wants to drain you dry as we sit here? Do you have any concept of how close I was to killing you when we first met? You have no idea of what I've done." His voice was tortured by the end.

"You don't kill people," I said, confident. He snorted, mouth twisting cynically. I held up a finger, quieting him. "You and your family have dedicated your lives to saving people. How could you be simultaneously killing them?"

"It is true that my family and I do not drink _human_blood," he said, eyes hard. "But that doesn't alter our nature. What would you say if you knew that I have killed people. Many people?

I paused for a moment. That's something that any sane person would care about, would be frightened by. The concept of this monster business was completely foreign to me, but I could still grasp the implications. And yet… I was not afraid of him. I didn't want to run, I didn't feel repulsed. I just wanted to be with him, forever. "I would say that I don't care." My voice, I was pleased to discover, was perfectly even.

"You wouldn't care that I'm a murderer?" There was a brittle edge to his voice that I didn't like, that I longed to erase.

"Look at what kind of person you are now, Edward," my voice was faintly exasperated. Why couldn't he see how close to an angel he was? My own personal, guardian angel. I quenched that thought quickly, though, before my fantasies got out of hand. It would only hurt more, later. "You save people, even though I'm sure there's a million other things you could be doing."

Edward regarded me, his eyes flat. His mere presence seemed to lighten the drab room. "Have you considered that those actions might be atonement? You shouldn't care for me. I put you in danger, every moment I am with you. It would be better for you if I just left."

I flinched, turning my eyes down.

"And yet," he mused, mood changing abruptly, "here you still sit. Unafraid. Like it were natural."

I picked at the edge of the blanket, slowly unraveling the threads. I didn't want to see the expression in his eyes, I didn't want to hear his torment.

"Tell me something about being a vampire," I stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar word, desperate to change the subject.

"Besides that we drink blood?" I could hear the irony in his voice. "We can't go out in the sunlight, for one. It's a little conspicuous."

"Conspicuous how?" I asked, glad that he was going along with my distraction.

Edwards's lips turned down in disapproval. "You're changing the subject."

"I think we've cleared up that subject."

"Isabella, please listen to me. This is dangerous beyond comprehension, what we are doing here. A mistake, a very grave mistake, on my part. Every moment I am with you puts you in unimaginable danger. Even _knowing_ what I am puts you in danger."

"How? Is that one of the other reasons why you didn't tell me earlier?"

"Yes," he exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It is forbidden by the Volturi to reveal our kind's true nature to humans. It's a reason my family and I must always be very careful in our interactions with humans."

"What are the Volturi?"

"They are an old, powerful family. The ruling class of the mythical world, so to speak. They have been in power for millennia, and they have held that power even as the human race crumbled and digressed… If anything, they have grown stronger."

I frowned. "Is that why you didn't save me, last night, with any special abilities you have. Secrecy?"

Edward shook his head. "I am fast, very fast. So is all of my kind. But he was holding the knife so close to your throat… If I attacked him, and he jerked even an inch, you could be dead. I needed to force him to drop his guard. The best way to do that was surprise him. So I lied."

"When I was bleeding, last night, did that hurt you?"

I smile tugged at his lips. It was part bitter, yet part amused, as if perturbed by my questions. "Yes and no. It took a great deal of restraint to not… to not kill you. It was painful, yes. And it was also wonderful. You smell extraordinarily good Isabella. It was all I could do not to…" His voice dwindled off, and he looked embarrassed and worried. Conversely, I was absurdly flattered that I apparently smelled good to him. "That was insensitive," he muttered, "I apologize if I scared you."

"That," I corrected him, "was truthful." I paused for a second, staring at him. My brain was overloaded with information, with the answered questions that finally made so many little pieces click together. "I'm glad I met you." The understatement of the year. _Glad_ didn't begin to cover it. Insanely, deliriously grateful and happy was closer to the mark.

Edward scowled, clearly displeased by my response. "I am not good enough for you, Isabella. You deserve more than a monster."

"I'm the on that's not good enough for you." My voice was subdued. I finally turned to look at him, flinching slightly as I saw anger smoldering in his eyes. "I can understand why you wouldn't… want me."

"If there is something you must never doubt, it is how I feel for you. Everything I told that man was a lie. I love you, more than I have ever loved anything before. More than I believe I will ever love anything again… You are my life now."

His voice was so smooth, like honey, and so sincere, I almost believed him.

Again, he saw the doubt, the disbelief on my face. He slowly lifted himself from the floor, the motion graceful as a cat. He held out a chalky hand to me, eyes serious.

Suddenly I knew that me taking his hand would have a far deeper significance than it seemed. He would let me walk away, if I desired, if I was afraid. He cared enough about me for that. If I took his hand, I was entwining myself into his world. His dangerous world, full of plots, intrigue, and blood-drinking beings. But it was _his _world. He would be there….

I didn't even have to think about my decision.

I reached out, laying my hand in his. Once again, it was icy cold and smooth. _Must be a vampire thing_, I internally shrugged. He was very careful, gentle as he helped me to my feet. Slowly, we walked across the brown, dilapidated room towards the window I had previously abandoned. With a jolt, I realized that the sun had fully risen.

"Keeping you in my life is the most selfish thing I could do, Isabella. You will be in danger every moment, and there is no doubt you deserve more," his voice was velvet, his eyes topaz. "But there is nothing I want more than you. Nothing in the world is more precious to me, more vital. I love you more than anything. And I will always love you more than anything."

As I heard these words, I felt something shift inside me. Suddenly, I understood. He really did love me. He loved me enough to sacrifice anything, to go to any lengths. And I knew without doubt that my passion matched his.

I had never been happier in this moment, never more content. It felt as if my heart was breaking. Not because of pain, but because it couldn't contain the emotions I felt right now.

Unbidden, I felt myself crying. I looked up at Edward, not fully yet in the sunlight, his hair gleaming slightly. My lips curved into a smile through my tears, and choked back an elated laugh.

His face lit up as he surveyed my expression. His eyes, which before appeared flat, almost lifeless, blazed with intensity. He was so perfect, so radiantly happy, that it hurt to look at him.

It was almost too perfect. This moment could last forever, and I would be content.

Gently, Edward began to tug me into the sunlight. I smiled, excited to see what he meant by his earlier cryptic remark about being "conspicuous."

As soon as he stepped into the light, his skin sparkled. Like millions of flawless diamonds were implanted into his pale, marble skin. Like the sun. My own, personal sun.

I'm surprised my heart didn't stop.

Even more gentle than before, he pulled me into his arms. His long fingers trailed gently down my cheek, soft and light as the kiss of a butterfly. His skin shimmered, sending of rainbows of light, and yet his eyes, his radiant smile, seemed even brighter.

"I love you," he said, gently, softly. "With all the strength left in me, I love you. Never doubt that."

Tears traced tracks down my cheeks. I seemed to be a mess of waterworks this morning. "I love you, too." My voice was rougher, not nearly so musical, so smooth. And yet it contained all of the passion I felt behind those simple words.

Edward smiled again, eyes joyous. Slowly, he leaned forward, pressing his icy, flawless lips against my own.

It was bliss, heaven on earth. I felt his cold, hard arms around me-- promising me protection. And I felt his smooth lips against mine, cold, yet filling me with a raging warmth—promising me love. I couldn't have asked, or even dreamed, for more.

All I could feel was his lips against mine, his hands gently pressing me against his marble body. And all I could see was light.

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	23. Chapter 22: Glass

**Many of you expressed the view that you would like me to finish **_**Cygnus**_**, so I certainly will. **

**Also, maybe I should quickly clarify something. I am not a 'lame' review crazy moron. I don't write just because I want to be praised. I ask people's opinions because it helps shape my writing. Me mentioning that I was writing this story for an audience ****was not**** insinuating that I will not continue if people do not review—I was saying that I do not want to disappoint people by quitting the story if there are still those out there who want to see it end. The honest truth is: this isn't the most review-lucrative story ever. If all I cared about was reviews, I wouldn't be bothering to write this story at all.**

**Sorry for the harangue, especially for those of you who have supported me and given me helpful opinions. But I'm going to get just as annoyed as anyone else when I'm called "lame" and "shallow," particularly if those accusations are unfounded.**

**This is the next chapter, it's extra long (not even including the author's note). I will try to get another chapter out soon, but because I don't want to screw up the story by posting bad chapters, the updates might take a little longer than usual. **

**Also: I am removing my previous Author's Note in a day or so.**

**Enjoy.**

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It was strange…coming back to where I started. Well, not exactly where I started. But the first place I had come after leaving that ship, after trying to bury the heartache of the past behind me.

I smiled slightly, and edge of bitter irony clouding my amusement. Dre Marsch's rambling mansion was precisely as I had remembered it. Polished, smooth floors. Marble that gleamed in the moonlight. Priceless statues, rugs, and paintings adorning imposing walls. All perfectly cared for, all in immaculate order.

Everything had changed since then. And yet, simultaneously, nothing had.

I was still the same girl who had first walked through these halls. I still was trying to forget the past, to leave behind the pain that came with it. And yet I was clinging to that past with everything I had. A circle, unbreakable, irresolvable. Ironic.

And yet I was different. I was no longer the uncertain person who struggled to find a handhold in what felt like an impossible situation. I no longer feared for my future; no longer felt I was spinning wildly out of control in a tempest that buffeted me with its chilled winds. And, of course, I no longer hated and feared the Cullens.

I glanced to my right, a genuine smile tugging at my lips as I watched Alice and Jasper walk together down the deserted hallways at a leisurely pace—for them. Their pale hands were intertwined, and something about the way they stared at each other made me feel like I was an intruder on a private moment.

I shivered, returning my attention to my surroundings. The coldness, the uncaring, cruel beauty of this place still made my flesh crawl uncomfortably. Alice caught my involuntary movement, dark eyes concerned.

"Are you okay?" Here voice was soft, the gentle movement of a breeze, but it echoed loudly throughout this crypt.

I shrugged self-consciously, meeting her eyes and Jasper's. "Yes. This place always made me uncomfortable. And I guess being back here is….strange."

Jasper frowned, and I instantly felt more at ease. I flashed a quick glance of gratitude in his direction, but he wasn't looking at me. He ran his free hand through his honeyed hair, lines etched into his forehead. When Jasper spoke, his voice was just as unearthly as his wife's, echoing through these splendid halls like a gruesome fiend. "I can still sense emotions here, even though there is no one else besides us present. They're faint echoes, barely detectable. But," he paused, flashing a piercing glance in my direction, "They're full of fear. And pain."

I could imagine that. The vague, almost silenced screams of disembodied slaves. Doubt and pain seeping through the very stones of the imposing mansion like a black shadow, permeating everything it came in contact with. I shuddered, quickly trying to lighten the topic.

"Remind me again what we're doing here, Alice," I said, my voice teasing, light. It would have been more impressive if it hadn't quavered.

Alice laughed, breaking away from Jasper's grasp and dancing a few steps down the hallway. "We know Dre Marsch is part of the conspiracy, trying to tip the balance of power. He's also a very ardent supporter of the slave trade. Him, and everyone else it seems, are at the docks, looking at the wreckage the _ghost_," she put a slight emphasis on this word, a smile blooming across her pale, thin face, "has created. Now's the perfect time to cause a little extra destruction that will take a while to recover from. If he has no money, no fortune, no slaves, it doesn't matter what schemes he cooks up. He'll be powerless. And," she added consideringly, "ruining his fortune is more humane than just killing him."

"Not that I would have objected," Jasper muttered, catching up with Alice. I eyed him for a moment, speculating. Edward had mentioned that Jasper had been a commander in an army now turned to dust, fighting for a cause that was long forgotten. Though he had come a lot closer to perfecting his self control than he once had (several hundred years will do that, Edward explained) there was still a slight air of savage energy around him. Not like Emmett's eager excitement for conflict, challenge, and destruction. Not like Edward's cool practicality and restraint. And certainly not like Carlisle's aversion to all violence. I understood that Jasper would do anything, _anything_ to protect this family, and more to the point, to protect his wife. He wouldn't even hesitate.

"We'll start on the top story and work our way down. Anything valuable, we destroy. Any plans, contracts, pieces of art. Money is power, in this day and age. No money, no power. No power, no problem." Alice's explanation was succinct, but her voice was enthusiastic. "Though it will be sort of a shame to wreck all of this beauty."

"If we're just here for destruction, why didn't Emmett come?"

Jasper chuckled, a bass line that accompanied Alice's soprano. "Emmett went with Edward to pull that disgusting prison down. I guess he would rather topple an entire tower than smash a few sculptures."

I smiled, thinking of Emmett, then of Edward. I missed him, already. But he had been insistent upon my staying at the abandoned building, safely out of any whisper of danger. Stubborn vampire. I had yielded, none too graciously, when I realized he wasn't budging an inch, and when I realized even the thought of me in danger made him crazy. Of course, then Alice had dragged me along with her and Jasper, cheerfully winking at me and waiting until Edward was far away. She assured me that it would be a piece of cake (an expression I'd never heard of until then), and tapped a delicate finger to her chalky temple. "Nothing will happen. Everyone will be down at the docks, and I'm sure you'd rather come with me and Jasper than wallow in this dump." She cast the room a contemptuous look. "Besides, you're part of the family. Like a sister. And this will be like a family bonding experience. No risk, no danger. Just a little, tamable destruction."

I smiled at the memory, anticipating the night's end. We would be leaving, all of us, to another place. Carlisle assured me it was somewhere up north, where the spread of slavery hadn't reached. We'd have time there to rest, to recuperate. To relax for a while. And I'd have more time with Edward. I mentally shook myself, forbidding my mind from spinning me into another daydream. _Besides,_ I added tartly to myself, _then I'll have more time to convince Edward that being human in this era is just too risky. But if I become like him…_ I smiled to myself. When I had first suggested that Edward change me into a vampire, not too long ago, he had recoiled like I had slapped him. Just like with his insistence that I stay in the building while he and everyone else wrap things up in the town, he wouldn't budge an inch. But on this topic, neither would I.

"Okay," Alice finally said, coming to a graceful stop. "We'll split up. I'll handle the galleries, Isabella, you get the study. Jasper will do the vaults."

I grumbled, happy to be included, yet annoyed at my pitiful human capabilities. "You could probably wreck this entire house in the time it will take me to dismantle one room, Alice," I said.

Alice giggled, shrugging, but didn't deny my statement. _Of course not,_ I thought sourly.

But I entered Dre Marsch's private suite nevertheless, trying to avoid remembering the times I had been here previously. The room where I had hidden and listened in on his whispered conversation with another man was exactly the same. I paused at the threshold, suddenly shy. I felt like if I walked into the room, everything would be the same as it had been the first time I'd walked in. Like Dre Marsch would suddenly appear, out of thin air, to sneer condescendingly at me. I exhaled, annoyed at myself, and walked into the room.

It was a handsome place, with mahogany paneling, beige stucco walls and tasteful oil paintings adorning the walls. Boldly, as if to prove something to myself, I walked to the polished wooden desk and smashed a priceless vase perched to the side of a pile of papers. Shards of glass littered the floor, shining a bright blue in contrast to the earthy colored flooring. I rifled through his papers, jerking when I heard the wrenching squeal of metal being bent. I smiled. Jasper.

I flipped idly through the papers, the parchment rough against my fingertips. Some were bills, or notices of money owed to the Dre by others. I smiled, tossing everything but the bills into the fire that crackled cheerfully in the hearth. The bills I lay out neatly on his desk, as if in challenge. It was a weak piece of revenge, and rather petty. But it was satisfying.

Alice breezed into the room, short, inky hair ruffled. "Want some help?"

I shrugged, smiling out how quickly she had finished. We worked in companionable silence, two friends, two equals. Of course, she was the only one who could lift paintings twice as large as she was in heavy wooden frames and move so quickly that she blurred. It was strange, working our way from room to room, to be destroying things together. Jasper turned up now and then, watching his wife flit like an angel of destruction from room to room.

Eventually I wandered away, feeling uncomfortable watching Jasper watch Alice. The way he looked at her was so adoring, so devoted, that it seemed he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. And to him, he was.

I strolled idly through the halls, footsteps echoing down the passageways. I didn't know I was really going somewhere until I got there.

The mirror room.

Its cool marble gleamed a ghostly silver in the moonlight. An air of complete, almost oppressing silence, hung over the room like a burial shroud. Like as tomb.

It was from this room that I had fallen to first meet Emmett and Edward. It was from here that my destiny would be linked unbreakably with the man I would come to love. I used to hate this place. Hated the creepy, haunting shadows that crawled across the polished floors like living beasts. Hated the coldness that seemed to embrace anyone who stepped through the wrought iron arch that was the door. Hated the way it was so big, yet so empty, noise swallowed up yet reflected back.

And now, I felt a strange sort of pull to this place. It was purely chance, a trick of fate, that I had met the Cullens. Had I not been in this room, had I not felt the desire to escape from this chilling mausoleum… I might never have met the Cullens, never have met Edward. My life would have stretched before me, dull and lifeless, like a painting bleached of its color, or ink writing left in the rain. Jumbled, lifeless, hopeless.

For the first time I watched my father die, I felt something akin to gratitude tug at my heart. Not because of the horrors of the past, not because of what I had lost. But because though there was much that was taken from me, much was given as well.

I was lost in peaceful, drifting thoughts, speculations. So it took me a while to realize I wasn't alone.

I stumbled as I spun around, uncoordinated as always. But I forgot my balance issues when I realized who was standing in the threshold.

He was leaning on a heavy looking baton that was balanced in the floor, reminding me a crone using a cane for support. Except that canes didn't typically have glints of lethal looking metal protruding from their surfaces. His clothes were sumptuous and extravagant, as always, reeking of affluence. A characteristic sneer distorted his thin lips, lank, dark hair hung over his forehead.

"Well, well, well. This city is just crammed with _ghosts_ tonight." Dre Marsch said, voice sickly sweet.

I froze, breathe caught in my lungs. Alice and Jasper were on the opposite end of the mansion, and I wasn't sure they would hear me if I screamed, and I wasn't sure I dared. They must be very busy, or very busy with each other, and I didn't know if they would notice the Dre's presence. I wondered briefly why Alice hadn't seen this coming before I shoved all other thoughts from my mind but the situation at hand.

Mentally, I calculated how long it would take for Alice and Jasper to get here—if they heard at all. They were toppling ceiling high statues at the moment. That was bound to impair some of their hearing…

And suddenly I was annoyed at myself. I was constantly getting into problems, and I was constantly too weak to solve them, to save myself. I was tired of being the feeble human, the one who needed to be looked after. I was tired of being nothing more than a liability.

_Not this time_, I vowed to myself, though I didn't yet know how I would handle the situation. _Not this time. _

I felt trapped, my back pressed against the mirror. Cornered. Slowly I inched away, moving in a circle so I stood nearer to the center of the room. Almost subconsciously, the Dre matched my movements, keeping me directly across from him the entire time. No more than twenty feet separated us. I could see the gleam of his bared teeth, the water splashes that stained his clothes.

"I think it's time we talked about your _associates_, and I know you have some. How else could have you escaped from prison, eluded the Guard? And I think that you know something about this ghost that's been plaguing the city. And I also think that you're going to tell me." His voice was low, sneering. He addressed me coldly, but with an air of condescending dismissal that reminded me of how people talk to dogs. Anger flashed through me, hot then cold.

I could see the scene, replayed backwards in the great mirror that dominated the room—the Dre's back, my frightened face. The great expanse of the room stretched behind me, unearthly white marble with swirls of the deepest black. It seemed to extend into an eternity. Too far for me to run without tripping. Maybe too far for Alice and Jasper to hear. I knew they, as vampires, had superhuman hearing, but I didn't know the exact extent. And I wasn't about to gamble my life on something like that.

Looking back at the mirror, reflecting shadows and light, I suddenly knew what to do. The Dre was leaning causally against the mirror now, placing him a perfect position. But I needed something to throw… I swallowed nothing, my mouth dry, as I realized I was going to have to lie to get what I wanted.

"I'm not talking about anything while you have _that_," I pointed to his weapon. My voice shook convincingly. If only it was due to my considerable talent as an actress.

"You aren't in any position to make demands. But I suppose I'll humor you, if that will expedite the process. I have a schedule to keep, after all." He didn't see any threat in me. He knew he was physically larger, stronger. He knew he could subdue me, if need be, even if I had his weapon. And he was right.

The Dre rolled his weapon, metal chinking unpleasantly against the smooth floor, and it slowed to a halt a yard and a half from my feet.

"Now that we're all more comfortable," he sneered the word, thin lips curling, "it's time to talk."

"I don't know anything."

"Let's keep this civil, shall we? There's no need for violence. And there's no reason to protect whom you undoubtedly believe to be your _friends._ You're alone."

I ground my teeth together. I needed time—enough time to reach the weapon, taking into account my miserable coordination. I needed him to drop his guard.

My mouth popped open into an 'O' of surprise when I remembered what Edward had done, what he had told me.

_I told that despicable, monstrous man something that I knew would surprise him, something that would lower his guard._

He had created a distraction so the man who had captured me would lower his defenses, if even only for a few moments. Of course, I couldn't rival Edward for his acting abilities, or speed, but if Dre Marsch was relaxed enough that he couldn't stop me, only for a few seconds, then it might be enough.

I wasn't so angry, so cold, and simultaneously so scared that I couldn't see the irony of the situation.

It would be funny, later. If there was a later.

What would startle the jaded Dre into complacence for a few moments?

"The Cullens are at the center of a major crime syndicate that has already seized control of several cities before this one," I babbled. My voice shook. I stumbled over the words, desperate to think of something, anything, that was so surprising it would cause the Dre pause, and yet not so ludicrous that he wouldn't believe it. "They report to a higher-up agent."

The Dre's muddy brown eyes narrowed, but his posture was still tense, alert. Ready to span the space between us within a few seconds. Too ready. Several seconds ticked by. I wiped my sweating palms on the smoothly woven skirt I wore, praying that he didn't think I was lying.

The atmosphere was so tense, it felt like the strain was palpable. Like it would snap at the slightest touch. I tried to regulate my sporadic breathing, staring at the pearly floor to ground myself.

Silence.

I wanted to scream, just to relieve the tension. But I was sure the moment I did, the Dre would attack me. And he would win. And Alice and Jasper might not even hear.

"Who is this agent? Who's in control?" I almost toppled over in relief when the man finally asked, buying my story.

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, voice bordering on the edge of hysteria.

The Dre snarled, not accustomed to being toyed with. "Tell me. Tell me who it is."

"It's me."

The Dre stood, face thunderstruck. I didn't know whether he believed me or not, whether he realized I was bluffing. But he was shocked, he had relaxed his attention. That lapse in concentration should be enough. I hoped.

I sprung forward, grasping for the handle of the Dre's discarded baton. It was long, half as long as I, and polished a sinister black. Metal spikes protruded from its smoothed surface like sharpened claws.

It was heavy, very heavy. For a split second, I felt terror fill my body as I realized I might not be able to throw it far enough.

The handle was cold against my hand. But it felt too polished, too smooth. I felt repulsed even touching it.

My muscles strained, screaming from the harsh effort after being abused for so long. I swung around, feeling the smooth floor beneath me and praying I wouldn't trip the whole time, using my momentum to throw the cumbersome weapon.

The physical action was over so quickly I hardly remembered it. Like someone else had done it, and told me the story. Like something done in a dream.

But _watching _the lethal weapon arch through the air, heading in the direction of the Dre, seemed to last an eternity.

_Maybe I didn't throw it hard enough. It might fall short. And if it does…_ I mentally calculated my chances of escaping, which were zero. And the chance that I could defend myself against the noble in a physical confrontation. Also zero.

The club seemed to pause for a moment in midair, metal protrusions gleaming queerly, before continuing on its path.

It struck the mirror, a few feet up and to the side of the Dre's head.

It was dead silent for an instant.

Wildly, I wondered whether my plan would even work.

Cracks spread across the surface of the immense mirror, spreading out like sinister spider webs.

Dead silent.

Then the entire structure groaned and broke into hundreds of shards, some large, some small, all catching the light of the shining moon. Just like with the weapon I had thrown, they seemed to hang suspended for a split second, as if defying the laws of gravity.

They fell towards the ground, smashing against the floor with a sound that seemed to jar the entire room. The sound of shattering glass was trapped in my ears, reverberating.

I looked away for a moment, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

The sound eventually faded. But something else lingered. Something wet, something repulsive.

I knew the smell even from here.

Blood.

I finally forced myself to look, and as soon as I had, wished I had walked away without ever seeing the gruesome sight.

Some of the immense shards had fallen uselessly to the floor, and shattered further into millions of pieces. But some had fallen on the man so conveniently positioned just below the mirror. Sharpened fragments had pierced the skin, and now rested, implanted deeply into the flesh, still glittering in the weak light.

There was so much blood. Bright, bright red.

I knew without closer examination that Dre Marsch was dead.

Numbly, I realized I had killed someone. But then I was engulfed in a wave of nausea, both from the grisly sight and the smell of blood, that was too powerful to fight off.

My stomach rolled, my insides feeling like overcooked vegetables.

And I was violently ill, all over the floor.

I finally looked up, arms wrapped around my stomach. I could see from my peripheral vision the seeping of the red across stone. It reached out to embrace the room with its sinister touch, unwilling to concede anything, even in death.

My mouth tasted disgusting, and yet simultaneously like ashes as I began to comprehend the fact that I had murdered someone. It was self defense, assuredly. But I was directly responsible for someone's death. I felt guilty, enormously so.

The man I killed probably deserved it. There was no doubt in my mind that he wouldn't have had a second thought about killing me. But still…

I bleakly wondered if this was how Edward felt, after he had killed someone.

Even knowing that the person had deserved it didn't absolve me of the crime. It didn't wash away the blood that was now on my hands.

I remembered Alice's cryptic mutterings about darkness, about shattered glass, about blood.

She had seen this. She just didn't know what she had been seeing.

I sat down, legs feeling week, and looked pointedly away from the carnage.

This room was truly a mausoleum, now.

And the fixture I had always hated had served to be instrumental in saving my life.

Another irony.

Alice and Jasper surely would have heard the sound of the wreckage. They would be here soon…

I thought about Alice's vision again. Blood and glass.

Somehow, despite everything, I smiled. It must have been a pale mockery of true mirth. But a smile nevertheless.

Never bet against Alice.

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